Equivocal
by MeyRevived2
Summary: When Subaru can't decide between the two loves in his life and can't find the strength to touch either of them, when Seishiro have had enough of Kamui playing with his toy, and Kamui can't contain his loveobsession with Fuma, the flow of destiny changes.
1. Perspectives

**Disclaimer 1: **I do not own X, Clamp does.

**Author's Thanks: **Many many thanks for Lani Reaper who chatted with me on MSN messenger, if it weren't for that "most outrageous non-canon same-sex X pairing" chat I wouldn't have come up with this story.

Many thanks also go to Cait-hime-sama the lovely, lovely beta and WhiteSakura for co-writing. Also many thanks to Elizabeth Benedict, author of _The Joy of Writing Sex_ who's book helped me map out guidelines to some of the future scenes in this fic.

Other many thanks, not a bit fewer than the those of the above, go to Trench Kamen for advising me about this story.

**Author's Notes: **This is the second edition, re-edited version of Equivocal since I've been feeling that the way the story was told the first time failed to hit the right spot in you readers and get the right result from you.

**Disclaimer 2: **This story is a non-humor satire, aimed to mock a certain way far too many writers focus on the yaoi quartet; Fuma-Kamui-Subaru-Seishiro.

**_Any OOC, over-the-top, non-canon and downright stupid behavior by the characters has it's purposes and is NOT written out of the belief that this is how the characters are really or should really be. _**

* * *

**Chapter One: Perspectives**

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* * *

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**One Track Mind **

Fuma stood perched on a lamppost overlooking a small green park on the edge of Tokyo's bustling heart.

He observed the humans in the park as they went about their ways under him. He monitored them, collecting information and storing it for future analysis.

There were lone walkers, taking a stroll in the lovely park to enjoy the first days of winter melting into spring, allowing the sun to shine brightly upon them.

These walkers were absent-minded; the void in their mind caused by the simplicity of the beautiful sunshine, the smell of freshly cut grass and the sight of little flowers planted in carefully planned flowerbeds.

The walkers didn't have to be alone; sometimes there were two of them or three, or a whole group. All were the same; all tranquil and silent shutting off every other distraction in order to completely observe the park around them.

Fuma liked these walkers (as much as he can like humans, being the Dragons of Earth's Kamui) for they seemed to be the only ones who could completely fathom the glory this park presented.

There were couples walking the park's paths holding hands and stopping for a quick kiss and a hug.

There were couples having a picnic on the large lawn stretches, crushing the delicate leaves under their bodies, their tablecloths and food containers, smashing the ants that tried to prosper on their food.

There were couples taking a romantic boat ride in the small artificial lake. They sailed harmlessly across the water's cool surface, enjoying the silky smooth heat rising from the lake.

From time to time the female of the couple would shriek and point at the water, marking the existence of a passing fish. They'd pretend to be afraid of nature's creatures…..well, Fuma too often found himself in slight discontent at the existence of these beings. Bred by humans, these poor creatures lost most of their natural features until they became the image of humans' twisted likes. The fish in that particular lake were even put there by humans in order to give the lake a more natural appearance. Ridiculous.

There were quick passersby, rushing from one end of the park to the other as a shortcut from wherever they came from to wherever they want to reach.

These were businessmen or women, hell bound on their corporate giri so bad they were blind to everything around them.

Some of these mad runners spoke into their cellular phones as they raced around, spreading the poisonous radiation from the machines into their surroundings.

Fuma could find little comfort in the fact that the first to be harmed by the radiation would be those who took it into their hand in the first place.

Then there were the hoards of children. Herds of them, screaming, shrieking, yelping, giggling, laughing, fighting, begging, falling, crying to mommy….so much noise!

They ran on the grass like a maddened stampede, crushing and killing anything in their way. They ate useless, unneeded candied snacks and threw their un-recyclable packages on the grass or just outside the waste bin. They smacked the water surface of the lake, scaring the fish. They caught some of the fish and tore them out of the water where they lay, twitching as they fought uselessly against suffocation.

They scared the little creatures who lived in the forested part of the park; the little squirrels, the feral cats, the birds and the insects. If they caught any of those they'd abuse it or cuddle it, scaring the poor animal. Only a few would care for an animal they'd find wounded or hungry.

Fuma despised children so much.

He despised humans, but then again, that was an essential part of his character as Kamui for the Seven Harbingers.

These humans underneath him; their ignorance shone out the strongest in this park. Shone out because most of them saw this as their image of nature, for they never stepped out of the stifling maze of stone and iron to know any better.

Shone out because the humans who built this park thought it was under their authority to trap nature inside a square of concrete and asphalt.

Shone out because no one in this park knew of the chemical harmony the trees and bushes created amongst them, of the feast the insects made of the little flowerbeds, of the intricate relationships and connections between the three clans of feral cats in the park. And no one wanted to know.

Shone out because the humans once knew of these things' existence, knew they could never possibly grasp it all at once, and gave up on their honor and awe for that existence.

Once upon a time humans were nature's woeful servants and faithful worshipers. They respected nature's needs, understood its cycles and various phenomena. They lived their lives tip-toeing around nature's Thou Shalt Nots with complete acceptation.

Now humans are selfish, ignorant, abusive, and careless. Mother Nature's children turned against her, abusing her ruthlessly.

And she?

Mother Nature created Fuma, begging this child of hers to rid her of her parasites, filling his mind with words of hate and plans of destruction.

Fuma nodded and agreed with her pleas.

He will destroy these treacherous humans. He will tear down every building they've erected upon the face of the earth and underneath it. He will rip the human out of nature's ecological system like a rotten tooth. He will unchain nature and set it free again.

He might die in the process, but that was not a notion ever thought of by him. He was, by his definition, a human and as one he should perish just like rest of them. When he died, he would die with the honor and joy of a mission well executed. He would willingly fall upon his sword, erasing the last of nature's most destructive race.

The Seven Seals were nothing but ticks born and made a little plumper than the rest of their race, and were now thrown against him by a force opposite to his Mother Nature. Like ticks, he would pluck them one by one and squash them under his heel without a qualm.

Those were and always will be the thoughts of Monou Fuma as the fully awakened Kamui of the Dragons of Earth.

* * *

**Obsessed**

Kamui sat on his bed in his little room inside the apartment given to the Dragons of Heaven who studied at Clamp Campus.

His knees were drawn to his chest, his left arm circling his legs in a tight embrace. He gnawed violently at the nail of his right hand's thumb, as violently as his mind raved between his ears.

Downstairs Sorata and Yuzuriha worked on dinner, making an awful racket of rattling kitchen utilities, shrieks and giggles. Both had such high pitched voices when they were in a good mood that if it weren't for Kamui's feverish mind blocking the real world from him he would have winced at the noise.

Fuma was on Kamui's mind or, to be more precise, the obsession Fuma had grown to become.

Kamui wanted Fuma.

More than ever, in more ways than before, with more force than before, and with an intense, obsession manner like never before.

Kamui would obsess over Fuma's looks, debating which part of the older teen he liked and lusted for the most.

He'd often ponder the change in the older teen's outfits and wondered if all this lay hidden in the Fuma he knew or came along with the change he's had since his 'awakening'.

When the time for them to meet in battle came, Kamui often found that he was getting more and more distracted by the other Kamui's appearance to focus on the task at hand properly. This had led to Tojo Pharmaceuticals' chief to almost die the last time Kamui and Fuma met.

Kamui, at this point, was way past the point where he wondered _why_ he lusted over Fuma at all. It was there and it was so powerful that wondering what created it was pointless.

Kamui would obsess over the many memories he had of Fuma. He'd obsess over every word the young man ever told him. He'd obsess (and this he would delight in obsessing the most) over each minute and second of his reunion with Fuma; their first meeting in the schoolyard, the first time Fuma spoke to him directly, the first time Kamui felt the grown Fuma's hand on his body.

He would lie on his back and think about definitions for how much he loved Fuma. Childish, foolish, overly romantic silly notions like, "I love Fuma so much that if it was water it'd be enough to put out the sun's fire!".

He'd look back on the years gone by and compare his love for Fuma then to the love for Fuma he feels now, noting how it grew like a farmer looking over his field.

Fuma would not leave Kamui for one second. His twin star became a ghost repeatedly called to appear before his eyes.

Kamui would see 'Fuma' written in his textbooks instead of the names really written there which happened to begin with 'F'.

Then he'd see 'Fuma' written instead of _every_ word beginning with an 'F'. It had gotten to a point where Kamui would open a textbook, his own notebooks, a newspaper, manga, a newspaper, and see 'Fuma, Fuma, Fuma, Fuma, Fuma' all over the pages.

When Kamui would brush his teeth in the bathroom, Fuma's face would appear before him instead of his own reflection. The youth would glare at him with evil fiery eyes bent on destroying him or smile at him, soft and brotherly as once upon a time.

Kamui would toss and turn in his bed at night, debating which one of Fuma's versions he liked best.

What busied him the most was trying to analyze the new emotions and sensations the new Fuma stirred inside him.

Kamui liked the new Fuma. In fact, the new Fuma drew more warmth, lust and want out of Kamui than the old, brotherly one ever did.

Was it always so that Kamui enjoyed a little (or more) pain in his encounters with Fuma?

Kamui raked his mind in search for past memories of such sort.

When they'd play 'catch' in the Monou's backyard and Fuma would tackle him to the ground, did he feel the same lightning bolt of excitement and arousal as he did when Fuma pressed against him just before he slew Kotori, or when Fuma leaned over him talking about cutting his heart out and eating it?

When they were young and Fuma would playfully wrap his arm around his neck and ruffle his hair just a little too violently, did he feel the same longing for more of this rough touch as when Fuma attacked him until he bled?

There was no doubt, in Kamui's mind, that Fuma was slowly handing him more and more of this aphrodisiac, of this drug to lure him towards him, to have him completely.

'Have him completely'. It sent shivers through Kamui's body, wrecking through his mind like a typhoon, blinding him, deafening him, twisting his common sense, making him hot and needy at night.

Kamui had had enough of this far off longing. He wished to move past fantasies and Fuma's little groping hints. Kamui wanted action!

But how will he bring action about! Every time he and Fuma met it ended in violence, the wrong kind of violence that is. Sure, Fuma would leave hot trails over his body wherever his fingers touched in maliciousness (or was it seduction?), but Kamui preferred it to be without all the damage to the surrounding buildings.

How will they meet? How would Kamui explain his needs to Fuma? How will he behave? How will he dress?…such pressing question limiting him while the raging need to meet Fuma almost exploded in him.

As he sat gnawing at fingernail, his mind became such a roaring storm Kamui reached out to his nightstand and grabbed the bottle of painkillers he had permanently stationed there since Fuma's awakening.

As if the sudden distraction of doing something that isn't thinking was all Kamui needed to clear his thoughts and straighten his mind, suddenly, in the crystal clear silence of his mind, an idea shone out.

A letter. He will send Fuma a letter in which he will invite him to a meeting. There they will talk, or fuck, whatever Fuma preferred. Kamui preferred the second; it'd clear his mind from some of its distractions.

Kamui leaped off his bed and shot to his desk, swiping off any textbook, notebook, old tea cups and other objects. He ripped a page from his loose-leave notebook and grabbed his pen fiercely as if it were a weapon of destruction.

He took a deep breath, trying to clear his foggy fixated mind, and began to write.

By then Kotori became a vague shadow somewhere at the back of Kamui's mind; a ghost desperately reaching out its arms to help her friend save himself from madness.

It was only "Kamui and Fuma" for the leader of the Seven Seals now, and nothing of the outside world could crush down those obsessive walls around his mind.

He sat on the chair by his desk, surrounded by open notebooks and textbooks lying on the ground like dead moths in the morning, broken bits of cups and papers scattered.

He did not notice the mess he had made and he will not notice he had forgotten to do homework for the past week when he picks up the cast away school things to prepare for another day of time-wasting tomorrow morning.

* * *

**Reciprocity**

It was early morning. In the dark room, black was slowly giving way to grey. The light crept softly through the veiled curtains of a window and touched the edge of Kamui's bed.

Subaru reached out similarly when the dark head suddenly tossed in the throws of a  
nightmare, or perhaps remembered pain from the boy's last encounter with the person who was once known as Fuma.

But unlike the sunlight, which advanced slowly and dreamily - Subaru recoiled his hand sharply. Subaru hadn't been thinking.

The onmyouji cradled his betraying hand to his stomach bewildered. Subaru had been by Kamui's bedside a number of times and the chair he sat in to watch over the boy had become a well-known friend.

Its red velvet armrest bore the imprint of Subaru's elbows, the dig of Subaru's fingernails when the onmyouji heard Kamui's harsh breaths and saw Kamui's restless turning grow desperate -- When Subaru ached to soothe with gentle hands over Kamui's fevered brows, or linger comforting fingers over a mouth that twisted and that often cried "Fuma".

But Subaru must not touch. Caught in the sheets of an over-sized bed, bound in dreams, Kamui was a boy torn apart by his own demons. Damaged. Fragile like glass that may break.

Subaru understood.

Early morning.

Black is slowly giving way to Gray.

In the silence, Subaru flees from the approaching light. He presses deeply against the back of the chair, moving to embrace what was left of the lingering shadows in the room, comforted by a darkness he is closely intimate with in one man's absorbing amber eyes - twin stars drowning in the night.

Beloved.

Hated.

But then, the sun suddenly breaks from the clouds through the window. The star's true colour, summer gold, washes over the boy's pale form.

Kamui makes a small noise and flings out his hand from underneath the sheets like a reach, like a plea.  
Kamui's forehead frowns in discontent. Subaru automatically leans over, to tuck the sheet over that outstretched limb - Subaru is startled by lucent mauve eyes. Vaguely, Subaru feels his hand slip over something far smoother and far warmer than cotton bed sheets.

Subaru leaves his hand there.

Kamui blinks sleep away and the onmyouji smiles. Subaru clasps the warmth underneath his fingers to let Kamui know the boy is not alone, but even when Kamui squeezes back, Subaru's heart, hidden in the dark cavern of his chest where light can never reach, wonders:

Could its touch have pleased another?

* * *

**Caught In a Storm**

Seishirou-san had been careful. For that one year the cherry blossom assassin had cradled his possession jealously. Then he had smashed Subaru upon cold pavement, trampled over the shards of Subaru's heart like one would over a fallen leaf that had lost all its novel colours and was nothing more than a dried withered shadow in late autumn.

Seishirou-san can touch.

Sieshirou-san can take and let go, unchanged.

Subaru holds on, even when something sweet has become bitter, even when the shards cut, even when they tattoo his skin in blood.

Even when the memory of kindness is all Subaru has.

Yes, kindness. The loving smile, the soft eyes, and all those warm words.

Lies. The smile was a mask, the eyes were sharp and ever-noting behind their appearance, and the words were outrageous lies.

Outrageous to his grandmother, outrageous to his then-still-alive sister. These women called out for war against their blood relative's kidnapper when he couldn't.

Seishiro's cruel scythe reached them both. It reached Subaru as well. It merely grazed him, intentionally failing to kill him or rip Seishiro out of his heart forever.

For Subaru was caught in a storm with two wind directions, constantly blowing him here and there, violently, mercilessly.

He loved Seishiro with all his heart and hated him equally. His mind, just like Kamui's, mulled over every bit of knowledge about Seishiro for a much longer time than Kamui could've imagined doing with Fuma.

Kamui was a glitter of light in the darkness of his life, a rope dangled at him to help yank him out of the storm.

Only Subaru was unsure as of his willingness to take the rope. Nine years in the storm cannot be denied or miniaturized by the fleeting hours, days and weeks he's spent in Kamui's presence.

* * *

**The Ever Observing predator **

The large leather sofa was most pleasing. Seishiro decided upon this as he tested its softness and depth, sinking his back and rear into the furniture. His fingers gently caressed the smooth surface to judge the leather's quality. Yes, most pleasing.

He noted, with great delight, a little silver ashtray placed upon the whitened glass little coffee table at the left of the sofa.

When they designed this little living room they surely thought of every need of every Harbinger, whomever it was who did the designs. Seishiro thought he remembered the blond one in the ridiculous pink suit babble something about the living room as his doings. Seishiro had been far too busy studying his Kamui to note such petty little details at the time.

Yes. His Kamui fascinated him, more than any human, other than Subaru, ever did.

Never in his life did Seishiro encounter another predator who is his equal in cold ruthlessness and carelessness. Never in his life did he observe another man in his kill and found himself taking notes of what he should improve in his own techniques.

Never in his life did darkness allure him in such a sexual way.

Seishiro, like a deep night insect, was mostly attracted to light during his life. He delighted in taking delicate light in his hand and slowly crushing it like so many little bulbs.

Subaru was such a light; his pureness, his goodness, his heartfelt willingness to sacrifice any part of him for another's good. Since the younger one was nine years old and the older one was an assassin beginner, this light and darkness dance drew the onmyoujis together.

But darkness? Darkness was _him_, and Seishiro always thought he sought out what was different to amuse him.

Yes. His Kamui amused him, gave him hours on end of observation and admiring. The more Seishiro observed his Kamui's kills was the more he wished to be one (physically, Seishiro was no prey for cheap romantic definitions) with this other top predator. He wished to have the younger man's body under his, to hurt it a little and extract a look of total surprise, of total submission.

Yes. Seishiro was jealous of his Kamui's abilities. All his sexual notions, his little trapping plans were, at their core, nothing but a plan to make the youth submit to him and recognise him as the top predator. Seishiro will yield to no one, especially not to some piece of cute ass who could blast things more powerfully than him and walked straight into his maboroshi once, countering his spell with such ease.

Seishiro moved somewhat uncomfortably on the exquisite leather, itching for a cigarette.

Ah, a cigarette. Cigarettes reminded Seishiro of Subaru. His Subaru, his toy, his subordinate, his pet, his beautiful follower. Subaru's sudden choice to start smoking made Seishiro laugh for many long nights, proud at this powerful imprint he carved into his prey.

That is all Subaru was and all he will ever be to Seishiro, no matter what Seishiro said or how he acted, it didn't change even at the face of random birthday gifts and flower arrangements (always with a wild cherry branch at bloom dominating the complicated ikebana mound) he sent his pet from time to time to watch Subaru squirm.

He indulged in these gestures only to reassure himself that no one treaded the territory of Subaru's heart, only to re-open the deep wound that bound Subaru's soul to him.

And lately, much to Seishiro's resentment, someone set foot in his territory, someone was reaching out a helping hand to mend his toy and bring him over into another's love.

Shiro Kamui. There was not one person on Earth, other than Subaru in his appropriate time, that Seishiro wanted to kill more.

If only the little brat wasn't the DoH's Kamui, if only he wouldn't be surrounded by his fellow riff-ruffs; if he hadn't spent most of his days within the much protected walls of Clamp campus, Seishiro would have caught the boy and ended his life easily.

That boy holding his Subaru's hand.

That boy listening to Subaru's troubles and comforting him.

That boy making himself into the waif in need of protection for Subaru to fuss around all the time.

Thinking about it made Seishiro's right hand fingertips ache to feel skin break, giving way for the chest bone to crush, the heart to twitch and stop, the blood to rush.

Seishiro clutched his right fist, gritting his teeth before he took control over his body again.

Not even the brief conversation his Subaru had with Kamui over him made Seishiro sure his pet was still holding him within his heart. He shouldn't be talking to the boy in the first place, shouldn't listen to the brat when he told him to put his cigarette out. So what if Subaru lit another cigarette right after Kamui left? He put the first one out and that was quite enough to rouse Seishiro's displeasure with Kamui.

As if she heard his thoughts, Kanoe made a sound as she entered the large room. "Ah, now that is interesting," she said.

Seishiro ignored her. Like everybody else around him, Kanoe was nothing but another waste of air, water and food on legs (with the exception of his 'Kamui').

Kanoe's physically impossible high heeled shoes made tiny clicks on the hard marble floor as she stepped deeper into the 'living room', shuffling the small pile of incoming mail in her hand. She held out a single envelope which she, with a deep puzzled frown, scrutinized thoroughly under the nearest elegant table lamp. "This is from Kamui," she said in a low murmur "the DoH's Kamui."

Seishiro sharpened his hearing, to better note what she said, might she say it again.

"It's for our Kamui…." She mumbled, flipping the envelope as if its content might show through the white paper on its other side.

Seishiro leaped off the sofa with speed he never knew he had for such mundane situations. He walked up to the hardly dressed woman (she had the horrible habit of unbuttoning her work suit whenever she came down here as if the more skin she showed was the more evil she became) and carefully (as to not show too much interest and care) took the envelope from her hand.

'To Monou Fuma' was clearly written above the address sending the letter to Kanoe's office.

"Well" Seishiro shrugged the most careless and laid back way he could muster, "I'll give this to 'Kamui'. He's out somewhere, chasing Kusanagi, I think." And before she could object, Seishiro turned around and walked away from Kanoe, shooting a single "don't worry about it" look at her.

Kanoe stared after him a little bit longer, wondering if it was smart or not until she came to the conclusion that it didn't matter. If Seishiro delivered it then, well, what harm could it really do? She trusted her 'Kamui's' determination about his role in destiny. And if Seishiro did not deliver the note, what did it matter? Nothing.

She _did_ wonder how on earth the other Kamui knew of her address until she reached the theory that he must have asked her sister to divine her location and, knowing who she is, asking her to deliver the letter to her 'Kamui'.

It didn't matter did it? Nope. She shrugged and shuffled on with the letters as she walked towards her bedroom, stopping to throw the huge electricity bill's envelope into Satsuki's refrigerator of a room.

Seishiro slipped the letter into his jacket's inner pocket and left the huge basement and its building, heading towards his home. He stopped at a little coffee shop to grab a to-go cup of extra strong coffee.

Often, he found that high quantities of caffeine, with their extreme stimulating effect, gave him such a buzz that it flipped and calmed him. If he is to read anything by The Brat he will need to be relaxed.

* * *

Inside his home, Seishiro hung his jacket (after taking the letter out of its inner pocket), eased himself into a pair of soft slippers, placed the steaming coffee mug on his living room table, laid himself comfortably on the sofa, lit a cigarette, placed both the ashtray and the cup within a lazy arm's reach, put on his reading glasses (the relatively early need for those always surprised Seishiro) and began reading.

His cat leaped to the sofa by him (on the side of him with no cigarette in its hand) and stared at its owner, checking to see if there's a chance of getting his dinnertime tuna delight earlier than usual, which is worth the bother of acting social.

His owner was not in any condition to notice anything other than himself, the cat understood, and so it leaped off the sofa and resumed his earlier task of monitoring a stray moth trapped in the assassin's apartment and waiting for the insect to grow weak enough to be caught and eaten.

By the end of the letter Seishiro had finished his coffee and cigarette and was desperately itching for new ones of both.

The letter, written by a sloppy, hasty hand that showed its writer could not shake off some residue of childish writing, read:

"_Fuma._

_I don't know what came upon you, why it happened or how I can fight it _(eraser marks here) _out of you._

_I do know that somehow it's good, what came upon you that is. _(Traces of several erasing fits here) _Do__ you know what I think about it? Can you tell? _

_I _(more eraser marks, fiercer now)_ hope you can. I hope you know what you make me feel wh _(more violent erasing, depriving Seishiro of the sentence's end)..."

Seishiro put the letter away. He was getting a little irritated at the thought of this little brat not only playing with someone else's toy but now stretching out to grab said someone else's potential toy.

His eyes shot to the letter again, as if to glare at its writer than at the actual paper. The word '_room' _caught his eye.

He snatched the letter again and resumed his reading.

"_I want us to talk about it. I want you to end my misery and come see me to resolve these feelings I have. But we don't _have_ to talk._

(The handwriting began shaking here) _I will be at the Four Seasons tomorrow at 3:ooPM, in room 498._(a little more shaken)_ I will be bound physically as I am bound to you emotionally. _

(Terribly shaken) _Do with me as you wish._

(Not shaken at all) _yours always,_

_Shiro Kamui."_

Seishiro's mind was a thoughtless vacuum. All he could do was stare at the letter and blink.

Rage came quickly to fill the void. How dare The Brat! He reached out for the light plastic coffee cup and, as its light weight informed him of its lack of coffee, crushed it into a small plastic ball.

It pleases him how the faint baby blue of the plastic seemed so painful and disappointed in its new and deformed shape.

It was so innocent, this coffee cup, expecting its user to drink from it and toss it away, not crush it so violently.

Then it hit him. The coffee must have not been quite strong enough to send him into relaxation, only to linger in his neurons and stimulate them into quicker and quicker thoughts.

Kamui was the coffee cup; thinking he's so darn cute and wanted, thinking that every hand reaching towards him will be a loving one.

He will go to the Four Seasons hotel and meet Kamui, he and not his 'Kamui', cruel and bloodthirsty he and not the (possibly) passionate lover Kamui expected.

And he will hurt Kamui, he will crush Kamui in his palm just like this little coffee cup.

Oh, tomorrow will be a glorious day for Sakurazuka Seishiro!

(tbc)


	2. Destiny Shaking

**Disclaimer: **I do not own X.

**Author's Thanks: **To my beta, Cait-hime-sama! Also many thanks to Elizabeth Benedict, author of _The Joy of Writing Sex, _whose book helped me map out guidelines to some of the future scenes in this fic.

Other many thanks, not a bit fewer than the those of the above, go to Trench Kamen for advising me about this story.

**Author's Notes: **This is the second edition, re-edited version of Equivocal since I've been feeling that the way the story was told the first time failed to hit the right spot in you readers and get the right result from you.

**Disclaimer 2: **This story is a non-humor satire, aimed to mock a certain way far too many writers focus on the yaoi quartet; Fuma-Kamui-Subaru-Seishiro.

_**Any OOC, over-the-top, non-canon and downright stupid behavior by the character has its purposes and is NOT written out of the belief that this is how the characters are really or should really be.**_

_**

* * *

**_

**Chapter 2: Destiny Shaking**

The Four Seasons Hotel never held such high promises to Seishiro as it did that day. He never regarded it as anything other than another fancy building in the ever busy heart of Tokyo.

But today, as he walked into its lobby heading for the elevators, it was something special.

It would prove exciting, if not interesting, to watch the brat he regarded as an obstacle in his ownership over Subaru's heart slowly break and crumble under his touch.

He didn't plan on talking unless he had something extremely nasty to say; he'll just break the boy beyond repair.

Just because Seishiro never did it to Subaru doesn't mean he wasn't capable of it at all.

Lord knows he had many 'lovers' on whom to practice methods of breaking the minds and hearts of men.

He was going to shatter the brat so badly there would be nothing left of him but a whimpering, wheezzing bloody pulp, never to be able to walk, talk or think properly after he's done with him.

His 'Kamui' might not approve of it at all. Seishiro always suspected his teen leader to have sexual interests in the boy.

But Seishiro couldn't give a flying fuck about 'Kamui', about the Dragons of Earth, about the Earth's wish or whatever the fuck it is when it came to his Subaru. You don't piss the Sakurazukamori off and expect to walk out of it without a scratch.

As he rode the elevator to Kamui's floor Seishiro mulled the scene he observed with his shiki a few days ago. His Subaru-kun holding Kamui's hand out of the blue, without a real reason, as he sat by the brat's bed.

His toy had a tendency to attach himself to vulnerable things and Kamui _knew_ that, the little brat.

Well, Seishiro sighed mentally; it's all going to end now isn't it?

He was standing before the door of room 498, putting his palm against the door to gently open it.

* * *

It was cold in here. Well, what could Kamui expect when he's stark naked!

His wrists were starting to hurt, and the blood was slowly draining from his arms due to his restricted position.

But Kamui took hardly any note of it. His mind was feverishly reciting his letter to Fuma hoping and praying that it worked properly, hoping Fuma would come to him like he asked, hoping they would finish this meeting in each others arms happy and spent.

The soft blindfold was wet, having soaked up Kamui's tears of fear, excitement and panic.

He spent the morning here, preparing for this meeting.

Screwing in the hook used to hold him steady and making sure it was secure enough to hold some of his body's weight was a nerve wracking task when his hands were shaking so violently.

Only for a shimmering second Kamui thought of how on earth he was about to repair the hole in the ceiling so that tomorrow when he checks out the hotel staff won't charge after him with demands of repair. The thought vanished quickly, drowning in the buzz inside his obsessive mind.

He took off his clothes and neatly folded them, placing them on the nightstand. He placed the tube of lubricant near the clothes; the plastic tube falling to the floor from his trembling fingers a few times before he successfully steadied it on the wooden surface.

For a moment, Kamui stared out the wall sized window of his room and a flush of hot embarrassment washed over his face when he noted a man in a far off office building standing by the window overlooking him.

Surely the man couldn't see him clearly from this distance, not his face anyway…so he wouldn't be able to recognize him in the street, right? He wouldn't know the naked kid about to strap himself like an animal in a slaughterhouse is Shiro Kamui, right? Right?

Kamui shook his head violently as if the thoughts were drops of water soaking into his skull. He turned his back to the wall and his observer to look up timidly at the hook in the ceiling.

He looked at the elegant clock on the room's wall….fifteen minutes to their meeting time….but what if Fuma arrived early…..?

Kamui climbed on the bed, almost falling down as his knees betrayed him and tumbled him to the mattress. The silken bedspread was soft on Kamui's exposed skin. Kamui wished to snuggle up in it and hide from the world, even from the upcoming Fuma.

No! He was not going to hide from Fuma! He was going to go through with this; he had no fear!

He only had love in his heart, passion in his hands, longing on his lips. He was prepared.

Taking a deep breath, Kamui climbed back to his feet and reached for the two straps on the bed. One was a black silk scarf, the other was a tough black leather strap.

He secured the leather strap on the hook and practiced the bonding knot, remembering how to do it by touch, so that later when he was blindfolded he would know how to do it well.

After a few mishaps, Kamui withdrew the BDSM manual he brought with him (Clamp Campus's extracurricular activities are not what people often think they are) and revised the bonding steps again.

When he felt he was well prepared for it, Kamui tried the knot once more and succeeded.

Very well, he thought, and untied himself. He took the silk strip and bound it tightly around his head. The world was black around him. A strange calm spread through his mind, completely pushing out the fever of fixation.

Steadying himself on the soft mattress with no sense of vision, Kamui stood up and reached for the leather strap. He had to use his inhuman powers to keep balanced on the mattress, imagining it to be a particularly thin branch on the very top of a tree.

With the strap securely in his hand, he bound himself.

The deadly silence of waiting came. His world turned black, his raging thoughts returning as a soundtrack; Kamui could scream.

Instead, he whimpered.

He cried. His restrained body slumped down, testing the hook's strength in the ceiling, succumbed to the side effects of emotional exhaustion and frantic work.

Then the door clicked. Someone came into the room. Kamui could hear heavy footsteps on the deep soft rug of his room. Fuma came in.

Kamui started shaking; biting his lower lip he struggled not to whimper, not to cry again, not to pant too audibly, not to make a sound.

He couldn't help a miserable, helpless, powerless, begging "Fuma…?" to escape his lips.

* * *

There was a "Do not disturb" sign on the door. Seishiro had to laugh at that.

No, he had to muffle his laughter so the boy in the room might not pick the different, lower octave of his voice and realize it was the wolf knocking on his door and not the savior forest hunter.

"Do not disturb" on the door, a sign for the room service to not enter the cottage where Big Bad Wolf chews down on Little Red Riding Hood. The brat is indeed a wandering, foolish, little girl full of innocence and the idiotic notion that anyone nearing her must be harmless.

Little Red Riding Hood will soon learn. Seishiro stopped laughing, removed his hand from his mouth, and grinned to himself.

The door was unlocked, pretty foolish, ne? His 'Kamui' could surely open the lock so locking would be stupid, but to not lock at all?

Oh well.

He stepped into the dimly lit room. Sunset's fiery colors started to paint the sky and the room with a violent deep pink-red. Tokyo lay magnificent beyond the huge wall of a window, its lights starting to twinkle as millions of people began lighting the million rooms they lived and worked in.

As soon as he took his eye off the breathtaking view from the immense window, Seishiro found something equally breathtaking to cast it on.

Something that would not let his eye off of it. Something that electrified his mind and seeped into his blood so he would not have another good night's sleep without consuming it again.

Seishiro never really took his time to better scrutinize the Seven Seal's Kamui. It must have been his hurt pride, maybe it was his 'Kamui's' presence there that made Seishiro dismiss the boy's looks the first time they met each other. Whenever Kamui was with Subaru, obviously, Seishiro's attention settled on Subaru.

So, he never quite had the chance to see how breathtakingly _beautiful_ Kamui was.

The smooth black silk that blocked Kamui's eyes shone as brilliantly as his raven hair. The dark fabric enhancing the perfect white of Kamui's face, which only served to emphasize the pink flush in the feminine highly set cheeks, and the blush in itself fainted poorly at the bold pouting pink lips, so soft looking and delicate.

It wasn't the thrill of hunting that made Seishiro's heart beat faster. It wasn't bloodlust that made his mouth dry in need of something to run his tongue over. It wasn't finding a target and making sure it had nowhere to escape that made his head dizzy.

It wasn't emotion either, definitely not. It was excitement of another sort, a hunger of another kind.

Kamui was the embodiment of Seishiro's Achilles heel, but that will be thought over later, for right now all Seishiro wanted to do was to turn his brain off and let his body wander over and succumb to its wishes.

He toed his shoes off; noting that the boy's enhanced inhuman-abilities-I'll-need-for-1999 hearing picked up his footsteps, and neared the boy on the bed.

"Fuma….?" The boy whimpered.

For a second the boy's letter flittered in Seishiro's consciousness, reminding him of what he really came here for. Seishiro shook it off, using the best excuse ever, the Scarlet O'Hara "I won't think about it now, I'll think about it later" to make himself forget and give into lust.

To help stabilize himself on lust, Seishiro reached out and lay the very tips of his left hand fingers on the flat of the boy's stomach.

The boy was just like he wanted him to be, somewhere in the back of his head where he drew an image of the perfect sexual playmate for himself; muscle-less and fat-less, a waif. A fresh bud.

His fingers trailed downwards from the edge of the boy's ribcage to the extremely sensitive territory of his lower abdomen. The boy's manhood leaped into action, hard and ready for him to take.

Seishiro loosened up his tie, removing it completely and throwing it carelessly to the floor by the bed. He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged his jacket off.

His left hand kept trailing across the boy's body, registering the milky soft skin as it relaxed under his touch from the cold-inflicted goose bumps. His hand registered how the boy's body began to heat up under the simple touch until it was like a delicately shaped heater. Oh, how he was able to get himself started, this boy, like a luxury car's engine. Seishiro liked luxurious things.

Seishiro let his mouth take command now as he bent forward and traced little circles around the boy's right nipple. Those nipples were driving him a little crazy a moment ago, so small and pink and perfect they really looked like closed little flowers.

His right hand moved over himself, roughly caressing his chest and lower into the crotch of his immaculate black Armani pants which he unbuttoned a moment ago.

No, he didn't want to get off like that, though in a few moments he won't be able to……no, he wasn't able to control himself.

Swearing under his breath, Seishiro disconnected himself from the magnetizing naked boy and walked to the nightstand by the large bed, fetching a paper tissue from the little box situated atop the dark brown wood and cleaning his semen from the suit he picked up from dry cleaning this very damn morning.

"Fu….Fuma….wh….Fuma?" the boy was whimpering and shaking again.

Seishiro looked back at Kamui raging and blaming him for his own lack of control.

But he won't think about it now, not now for god's sake, when he's up and ready again, not now when the boy has his frail little back to him, not with that small and perfectly round behind so vulnerable before him.

Removing his shirt, shaking off his pants, Seishiro climbed on the bed and went on all fours.

Yes he went on all fours, Sakurazuka Seishiro, because he wanted to kiss the small of the boy's back. Just between the two dimples he found as the most erotic part in the boy except those sensual pink lips.

He let his lips linger there for a while until the boy stopped shaking and calmed down.

The boy didn't really calm down from the moment Seishiro started touching him to the very end of their act. The boy was always panting or whimpering or withering or trying to form the name of a person he thought he was with and failing miserably.

It didn't matter really because just like the boy couldn't speak properly, Seishiro couldn't hear properly.

The two were so locked in their little world of fantasies coming true that anything else in the world around them faded and unfocused.

Seishiro rose to kneeling on the bed like the boy, and reached out to the boy's hips.

He didn't like his prey with too many leg muscles. Boys like that climbed trees in their life, played with their friends, did some exercise. Boys like that could get up and run away from him. Seishiro liked them to be like noble Chinese girls of ancient times; beautiful and crippled so whenever they'd try to escape they'd fall down and fail. Then he could leap down on them and devour them like the Wolf on tiny Red Riding Hood.

With that thought in mind he bit down into the boy's shoulder, grazing his teeth against the perfect skin and taking great measures not to inflict even the tiniest flaw on the boy.

The boy moaned, so much like a well trained porno star, with such surprise at his own delight and so much pleasure, so much succumbing in one airy "ah…." Seishiro found another plus to the boy.

Looking up at the knot that bound the boy, Seishiro had to laugh. He reached upwards and pulled the little excess strap that secured the boy from escaping.

Ah, that knot, the good old days in high school when he could practice it over and over again in their after school club (after all, Seishiro was once a Clamp Campus student); indeed it brought back good memories. But the subjects of his practice in high school were never such perfect specimens of Seishiro's fantasies.

With his fantasies in mind, Seishiro reached over to the boy's erect member, busying his mouth with tracing patterns on a pure white ear and making the boy purr, while his hands began caressing lower, turning to pumping the hardness in his hand slowly.

"No…." the boy exhaled suddenly "Don't play…." Seishiro bit down on him again in hope of silencing him so that he could concentrate on his own pleasure "Ju….just do…..just do it….please….Fuma please…."

The pleading tone; what a perfect slave the boy would make if Seishiro would have really ever mastered the studies of BDSM, but he never bothered to get too deep into it.

Seishiro had a tendency to not obsess as much as he submerged himself in things in a fashion quite similar to obsession.

He did it with work and with pretending to be the Kind Veterinarian and by the end of The Bet he realized it was hard to yank himself out of these submergings whenever he wished to be free.

But if this boy was with him in the after school club at the time, Seishiro would have delighted in taking another course and another with him as the dominant and the boy as his slave and submerge himself so deep he'd truly drown in it.

And the words…."Do it"…..he didn't have a choice but to do it now or he wouldn't be able to control himself again.

Seishiro turned around and found the lubricant.

He registered it earlier when he scanned the room in general, making sure to always remember where everything is in his environment and help himself gain more control over a situation.

There were moments in Seishiro's fantasies that threw him (mentally) off the edge. Stripping whomever he was about to have sex with was one. Kissing whomever it was across the neck and toying with their ears to make his subject shudder was another. Applying lubricant to his fingers and inserting them into whomever he was with was another.

Seishiro could throw his head back and laugh wholeheartedly with how absurd it seemed that _this_ boy of all the boys in the world followed his fantasies as if he was going through a list ticking off everything Seishiro ever wanted in a sexual partner:

When he slid his fingers in not only did the boy gasp with pleasure (Seishiro didn't like the chaste 'oh my god what are you doing!' over-innocent reactions) but he also bucked his hips, drawing his lower back towards Seishiro to take more of his fingers in.

It was a lot like petting a cat, the animal leaning into the touch while directing you to where it liked the touch most.

He played with his fingers inside the boy, twiddling a little and turning them in different directions. The boy was shaking, gasping and moaning.

It wasn't malice Seishiro stared at the blindfolded boy's back with, it was amazement. No one ever caught him unguarded like that since his 'Kamui' commented to him about how much he couldn't care less about whether he gave cigarettes to a minor or not.

Finally, seriously on the verge of orgasm, Seishiro directed himself into the boy and slid in. he grabbed the boy hard, one arm across his chest and the other pumping the boy.

His head became heavy, violently dizzy, so he rested it on the boy's shoulder to nip at his neck and collar bone (another over the edge part in his fantasies, because now he could come if he wanted to) Seishiro felt the impending climax rake through his body with such power like he had never experienced before, little waves preparing his body for the tsunami about to come.

The only thing that kept Seishiro from reaching climax in earnest was the boy, whose mouth was just by his ear. He was saying his damned "Fuma, Fuma, Fuma, Fuma" over and over again and for some obscure reason it irked Seishiro enough to rob him of the precious super orgasm he felt he was going to have.

He reached out with his free hand and traced the boy's lips. The boy picked his middle finger and began kissing it hungrily, sucking on it erotically.

That was enough to throw him off big time. Usually he would be angry at himself for letting his mask fall off enough to let someone else hear him scream but right now nothing could make Seishiro shut his mouth. Besides, by then his body was so out of control that even if he wanted to he couldn't stop himself from _yelling _when he came.

He was so ignorant to anything else besides the white-hot pleasure that he didn't notice the boy was biting down on his finger.

He did register it _somewhere _in his foggy mind and connected it to the boy's own climax as his unbitten palm registered a mildly sticky substance poured into it.

* * *

"Fuma….?"

Was it Fuma? Was it? Was it? Was it? Was it? Was it? **Was it!**

The silence was eating Kamui alive. Someone was in the room, standing directly before him, watching him…but was it Fuma?

Kamui would _honestly_ die if it wasn't, if it was some hotel worker who decided it must be funny to come in and watch this pathetic youth hanging, bound like some twisted hentai movie character, from a hook where the hotel room's lamp should be.

Kamui would tell the whole Battle of the Apocalypse to go screw itself and flee the country with a new I.D. if it was a fellow Seal who went looking for him after he went missing the whole morning and located him here, bound and naked like some ancient barbarian shrine offering.

Was it Fuma? Oh god….

Kamui never believed in any religion really but he begged any deity out there to have mercy on his petty black soul and deliver Fuma here before him now.

Fingers were touching him softly, kindly, lovingly. Kamui's heart beat in his chest so hard it was painful. His throat was dry and twitching with choked tears of excitement. It _was_ Fuma!

Fuma was running his hand down his body, oh yes! He was appreciating him, he was caressing him, he wasn't going to hurt him too badly…..oh **yes!**

They were going to do it, they were going to make love and end this stupid teasing dance in the name of Kekkais to be protected and broken.

Kamui was shaking as he stopped himself from crying with joy. He wanted to kiss Fuma, wanted to tell Fuma to kiss him but his brain and his tongue betrayed him, letting him produce only whimpers and broken syllables.

He felt a hot tongue playing on his nipple and his head silenced again. There was nothing in there but bright white clouds shining with light. Kamui's mind was soaring high in the sky.

Inside him was a little boy dancing happily, shooting his fists in the air and hollering at the top of his lungs, "YAAAAAY! I DID IT! I'M DOING IT! IT WORKED!".

Kamui was moaning, thanking whatever deity it was with withering sounds.

And it stopped! All of a sudden the cold was back as if the hot mouth on his body was all the heat Kamui had to protect him from the cold on his naked body.

Just like happiness crushed on Kamui like a tumbling Sunshine 60, so did the fear he was experiencing now.

Did Fuma change his mind? Did regret spoil their encounter? Was it their role in destiny that Fuma thought of and removed himself from him?

Kamui wished to tear at the leather strap and throw himself at Fuma, to throw himself at his questionable lover's feet and beg for more.

Why did Fuma leave? He could hear Fuma pant and choke a few moans a moment back, he was sexually excited for sure! Why did he leave!

Fuma was walking behind him, somewhere to Kamui's left …wha…what was going on! Kamui was on the verge of tears again.

"Fu….Fuma….wh….Fuma?" he managed to say, trying to fight the tears from soaking his voice. Why was it that he couldn't make a proper sentence!

It didn't matter anymore because Fuma was climbing on the bed behind him and placing his lips….yes, his _lips_ on his lower back…..oh he was back! He was back! Fuma was back!

He was touching his legs, stroking him, touching him again. The child in Kamui started dancing with renewed energies.

Fuma once said that he knew everything Kamui could and couldn't do because he was Kamui himself.

That's why he knew Kamui liked a little pain. He knew Kamui picked up the habit of a little violence ever since Fuma started mumbling things about the End of the World.

How else would he know he should bite down on his shoulder? Electric currents ran under Kamui's skin every time he felt teeth grazing his skin.

And how would he know he didn't like it when Fuma hurt him enough to make him bleed? How would he know to bite down without breaking his skin?

Oh, his new Fuma was so wonderful, so considerate and loving, so soft and caring and brutal and sexual and so fucking brilliant!

The little tug to the knot binding him came. Kamui read that manual over and over again. Fuma was accepting his role in this game; he was taking dominance over it, over Kamui.

Now he has no where to run, but who the fuck wants to run anyway!

Oh, the tongue was back, Fuma was licking his sensitive ears…..he knows just _where_ to lick….oh, the joy….

But his hands were playing downstairs, his hands were going to throw him off the edge and Kamui couldn't trust his excitement to support him into another round if he reached climax now.

No, he wanted more than just a little hand-job from Fuma. He wanted the real deal now that things had to be proven. They'll have all the time in the world, when this is over and they'll call the Battle off, to play around and test each other's abilities. Now what Kamui wanted more than anything was to feel Fuma fill him.

"No…." he tried making Fuma stop. It didn't help. Goddamn it why was it so hard to talk! "Don't play…." Fuma only bit down on him again to try and get him off quicker.

Kamui was a very stubborn little thing when he wanted it and he wanted Fuma in him _now _"Ju….just do…..just do it….please….Fuma please…." Begging was something any good slave would do to his dominant and that was their game, was it not?

It did the trick. Fuma let go of him and disappeared from the little world of touch-induced lights playing before Kamui's closed eyes.

What brought dancing colorful lights back were two fingers as they entered him, playing inside a little.

Fuma had such big manly hands; Kamui always registered that as he saw his object of affection and lust play basketball.

He always tried to picture those strong long fingers splayed on the orange ball, forcefully do the same across him.

Fuma's fingers were manipulating him into a submissive pulp now, just like they did with the basketball, only the ball was not quite as withering and liquid like Kamui was now…. metaphors are a hard thing to form when you're being prodded the way Kamui was.

Fuma removed the fingers and Kamui gasped, awaiting the bigger things, awaiting Fuma himself.

Fuma never knew it, but during that basketball game Kamui came to watch, his high school team's uniform pants were just loose enough to make Kamui not quite concentrate on the game, rather on what was bouncing under them as Fuma leaped and dodged about the field.

When Kamui _really_ began obsessing over Fuma's body that was the first thing he tried to picture. He'd lie in bed and think up how Fuma might look under those loose red shorts and shiver in his bed from repressed lust.

Now that part of Fuma was within reach, fuck reach, Kamui could feel it squeezing into him.

He leaned in deeper, taking Fuma completely into him. He wanted to scream out with joy like the little child within him. He wanted to burst into tears and thank Fuma for deeming him worthy of it. He wanted to beg Fuma to thrust harder.

He didn't need to do that, now did he? Because Fuma was pounding into him so forcefully Kamui needn't speak. He _couldn't_ speak though he could hear himself say Fuma's name with an ever increasing volume.

Fuma was such an animal! Such a delicious and vicious animal! Truly he was some kind of a predator, clawing at him and pumping him and taking him so forcefully.

Kamui was losing his ability to register his surrounding or anything in his body but the strips of flesh where Fuma's skin touched his. Everything was a black void around him like in Hinoto's dreams, only with an oncoming orgasm to add to the fun. The pleasure was transporting Kamui into a world where nothing else mattered and no words besides his lover's name meant anything.

Fuma was kissing his collarbone, licking his neck and nipping at it gently.

Kamui wanted to touch that slightly spiky, sticky from sweat mixed with too much hair gel, raven hair. He wanted to smell the musk of Fuma's sweat, the sweat he seduced out of him.

Fuma reached to his mouth to feel his lips. Kamui could feel him about to burst inside him.

He wanted to toy with Fuma and prove to him that he can be erotic and sexy even in the minimum self control state he was in. He picked Fuma's middle finger and sucked down on it, tracing circles with his tongue on the digit like it was Fuma's manhood inside him.

And he didn't give up on his need to smell Fuma and feel his hair against his face.

If he gave that wish up maybe he'd be a little saner later when this was all over.

Kamui moved his head to Fuma's hair and took a deep whiff.

**IT WASN'T FUMA.**

He was starting to shake. Sadly it wasn't because of his new revelation. It was because he was a stone rolling uncontrollably down a very steep slope and he couldn't stop himself from reaching the bottom. He couldn't help the earthshaking orgasm about to come upon him.

But it **wasn't Fuma**…..**who** was it!

Who was it that smelled of cigarettes? Not Subaru because Subaru's hands were more like his, small and delicate, and Subaru would have tried to talk to him before doing something like _this_.

And it wasn't Fuma for sure because Fuma didn't smell of sakura because Fuma was slightly allergic to the stuff and Kamui knew that since the first time he saw Fuma break out with a rash standing under a cherry tree.

"Why do I smoke?" Subaru's voice filtered through the raking pleasure and the huge rocks rattling inside Kamui's mind, the violent pulse of blood in Kamui's ears. "Because _he_ smokes".

_He _being the…..oh no…..

The _Sakura_zukamori, which would explain why the hair he was leaning against was reeking of the pink petal's scent.

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. NO!

It couldn't be Seishiro, Kamui bit down on the finger in his mouth trying to cut it in half and make the man stop moving so wonderfully inside him.

It couldn't be Seishiro who was milking the purest, most powerful and most delighting sensation Kamui was now experiencing. It couldn't…..

But it was too late…..too late……too late….oh Fu….no….not Fu…..too late…..too late for that…..

If there was a thought in Kamui's mind it was gone now, washed away by the huge tide of climax. He was screaming into the finger and shaking so badly and thanking not the deity, but _this man_ for the orgasm.

After the bright white light that blinded him came the afterglow and a dead faint. Kamui was simply too shocked, too charged and too exhausted to keep awake after it all.

Whether he fainted or fell asleep Kamui couldn't remember. All he knew was that there was something soft at the bottom of the pitch black pit he was falling into and that was enough to know to let go of control. He crushed into the bed as his binding was released and strong arms caught him. He did _not_ want to think about whose arms they were.

There was one thing that lingered in the fragments of seconds before he went blank. It was like acid in his mind, burning down anything in its path.

It was Seishiro, not Fuma, who just made him feel so damn good. Sakurazuka(mori!) Seishiro.

(tbc)


	3. Aftermath

**Disclaimer: **I do not own X.

**Author's Thanks 1: **To my beloved beta Cait-hime-sama,to Whitesakura the co-writer and to Irresistibly Cruel, the wise advisor.

Other many thanks, not a bit fewer than the those of the above, go to Trench Kamen for advising me about this story.

**Author's Notes: **This is the second edition, re-edited version of Equivocal since I've been feeling that the way the story was told the first time failed to hit the right spot in you readers and get the right result from you.

**Disclaimer 2: **This story is a non-humor satire, aimed to mock a certain way far too many writers focus on the yaoi quartet; Fuma-Kamui-Subaru-Seishiro.

**_Any OOC, over-the-top, non-canon and downright stupid behavior by the characters has its purposes and is NOT written out of the belief that this is how the characters are really or should really be._**

**_

* * *

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**Chapter 3: Aftermath**

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* * *

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**Wake up, Little Red Riding Hood**

The duvet he made his lair in was sun soaked, the thick layers beaming warmth into the air pocket where Kamui slept, heating until it forced the youth out of sleep.

Only barely did he open his eyes to see the light of late morning shining at him from the hole in his fabric cocoon. He blinked, using the fact that this was not his bedroom to yank his mind out of slumber.

At once, the events of the day before hit him, and not with the unpleasant bang he predicted it would. Rather than hitting him like a ton of bricks, it spread through his mind like poisonous gas.

It concentrated in his awareness smack in the middle of his brain so no matter what he tried to do, there was no way he could tip-toe past it and not be hit by its piercing gaze, its snarling scorning fanged mouth.

'_You betrayed everything,' _it snarled. _'You foolish boy, look at what you've done.' _

Angry at his own mind berating him, daring to talk back at him, Kamui shut it up with all his might. He ignored its words and locked them all away, along with the creature spouting them, as far away from his consciousness as possible.

If he hadn't done that maybe he wouldn't be in the mess he'd be in later…

Feeling like he needed to show the creature his defiance with an actual physical act, Kamui bolted up on the bed. Shaking the duvet off his naked body, spreading his legs sideways with both feet facing each other, hanging his head a bit with slumber's weight still pulling it down, he frowned.

"Good morning."

Within minutes, whatever defiance, bravery, dominance and courage Kamui had in him shrank away with its tail between its legs. Kamui blinked madly to his right and it wasn't because the sun was shining murder from the wall of a window to his right.

Seishiro sat by the little elegant western styled oak table. His large body spreading casually into the vast matching oak chair, his legs crossed elegantly, his hair neatly combed and his face already shaved (Kamui could trace faint, heavily masculine aftershave beaming from the man), holding a neat white steaming coffee mug in one hand and, like any normal and sane human being (which Seishiro _definitely_ was not!) would do, with the other holding today's newspaper folded in half on the sports section.

There was a large silver tray on the table's polished wood top, laden with plates of muffins, French originated rolled cookies, another cup of coffee, a neat transparent coffee mug, a sugar bowl and a small milk jug.

Seishiro looked directly at him, absolutely disarmed and calm as if they were two of the most ordinary people in the world. "There's some lovely breakfast here for you," he said nonchalantly.

Kamui blinked again, trying to process what was going on.

There was no mistake about it: sure as hell, Sakurazuka Seishiro sat there and not because he came into the room at morning to bring Kamui his breakfast, rather because they had sex the other day and they both slept in.

There wasn't even a way for Kamui to deny the details of what happened yesterday. His wrists wore new bracelets of bright red rash from the leather. The two binding straps, leather and silk, lay cast-off on the nightstand, along with the lubricant tube which lay on its side with the cap on the carpet and a little congealed fluid from too much squeezing earlier the other day at its tip. The lamp Kamui unscrewed to make room for the hook lay under the breakfast table, Seishiro's (bare!) feet playfully clutching its silver rod with their toes.

Kamui shot to his feet, grabbing the duvet with him to cover himself up (_'what's the point in that silly boy, he's seen you more exposed then nudity can offer,' _SHUT UP!) and rushed into the bathroom.

With a towel to cover himself this time, he stomped over to the bedside cabinet where his clothes were, ripping them off the cabinet while glaring death at the other man (now munching on one of those strange French rolls) and stomped off into the bathroom.

Kamui brushed his teeth, combed his hair as much as he could, washed his face over and over again before he realized he should take an overall shower (his lower abdomen was covered with semen and the same thing could be said about his rear end).

He took the quickest shower possible, not even bothering to fumble with the water temperature controlling buttons. The ice-cold water helped him recover his senses as he stood under them, feverishly soaping his body as if to purify it.

Then he stepped out of the shower, brushed his teeth again, fought his pile of untamed hair and failed miserably before he put his clothes back on and shot out of the shower, out of the room, out of the hotel, and out of sanity.

If he didn't run to the elevator he would have been be able to hear Seishiro laughing through the room's door.

* * *

**Laugh, Big Bad Wolf**

Seishiro sat there laughing for almost five minutes, stopping only because his lower back started hurting. Ah yes, he is getting older, and such sitting positions do not go well with the aging.

He sat up, threw the newspaper carelessly away, lit a cigarette, gulped his coffee fully and ravished the two pastry plates. There was no need to keep up the appearance he held before Kamui's eyes when the boy was no longer here, right?

The second cigarette (the after-food one, unlike the first, along-with-coffee, cigarette) silently burning between his fingers, Seishiro placed his chin on his palm and looked out to the city. A low chuckle tickled under his ribcage, wishing to get out. He let it go, savoring how Hollywood-ishly evil he sounded.

And wasn't he just that? Was he not the perfect demon when he stayed here to sleep the night with Kamui only to be here in the morning and act as a painful reminder of the boy's searing treason?

Seishiro enjoyed tormenting waifs like the boy so much he wondered if 'sadism' could be considered an emotion and if so, how did it slip past his mother's strict anti-emotion training.

And how was little Subaru-kun doing this morning? Seishiro sent his senses forward, reaching out to his markings to guide him to his prey.

Yes, he'll pay a visit to his little china doll with emerald eyes and a heart of shattered glass today.

He always wanted to know if broken glass could be smashed into dust and if so, would it still glitter beautifully in the light?

* * *

**Now Suffer, Red**

Kamui arrived to school at 11:30, entering his classroom in the middle of class. The teacher gave him a searing look. Didn't matter.

Nothing could sear Kamui any more than his own conscience.

And so class flew by without Kamui paying attention to a single word the teacher spoke. Hell, he didn't even bother to open his notebook, not even his textbook when the teacher told them to.

It's a good thing Imonoyama-sama told all his teachers that he might be undergoing some mental stressful times, ordering them to overlook any slacking in his schoolwork.

It was his fellow Seals that could not overlook his absence or his strange behavior. His 'friends', the Seals…such pests, really.

They rushed over to him at lunch break in a cacophony of worried questions and berating comments for him to please not run off like that without telling them or without keeping some kind of contact with them.

They were easy to dodge, as imprisoning as the little triangle Sorata, Arashi and Yuzuriha made when they stood around him could seem. Kamui learnt how to shake them off pretty early in their relationship.

He hung his head low, frowned sadly, cast his eyes sideways. With a whisper of a tone he mumbled, "I was walking around town trying to find Fuma…or any DoE…but I ended up in Togakushi shrine…I think I almost fell asleep where my house was, but…I kinda dragged myself into the house to sleep in a normal bed…"

A muzzle couldn't shut them up better. They stood around him like blocks of ice, staring at him with various levels of pity.

"I…I think I'll go to see Kotori for a while…" He turned away from them, cursing under his breath as soon as he was far enough from them.

Now he had the use of Togakushi shrine to mask his misdeeds to add to his pile of guilt. Lovely.

The school hummed around him, various cheers or squeals from students piercing the bright warm air. Noise, so much noise, so useless and stupid.

Kamui needed a dank, dark place to curl up in and feel sorry for himself. He didn't need this damned campus full of perfectly kept gardens and spoiled students thinking they can fill the air with meaningless happiness. What do they know of happiness when, surely, they never knew enough sadness in their lives to know what true joy was?

What did _he_ know of happiness? Happiness was torn away from him when every dream he had of stopping death from snatching his dearest away broke before he could touch it.

His self-consuming thoughts came to a halt when Subaru came into his sight.

The older man was sitting in that marble little ach, smoking his lungs away. He was looking off (thankfully) at the direction opposite to that of Kamui's with that same blank expression like he's not quite on the same level as everybody else.

Kamui simply could not bring himself to see the older man right now, not now, please! What if Subaru caught the scent of sakura and smoke off of him? What if there was a way he could sense what happened, what if that bastard left some sign on him for Subaru to pick up?

A violent shudder caught Kamui's limbs, the very thought of Subaru finding out made him sick to his stomach. He held it back, looking around for a route of escape; he dashed in _that_ direction with tears in his eyes.

Kotori's tree waited for him with large comforting branches to curl up on, an abundance of merry little birds intertwined in its foliage and the soft sweet grass between its roots.

'_And you think you can just walk into its territory after what you've done? Hah! Your feet ought to be burnt at the first touch with a virgin's grave, you impudent, defiled little monster!' _

(Didn't I tell you to **shut the fuck up!**)

He walked to the tree trunk, placing his palm on it instinctively. With catlike flexibility he climbed to the thickest, tallest branch and splayed himself there, exhausted.

So many thoughts bothered him, so much guilt, and so much self-disgust. As he lay there, he rubbed the sides of his arms, his fingers soon curling to claw at his sleeves.

He wanted to scratch the skin off of his flesh. He wanted to walk into a fire and burn his sins off. He wanted to put a bullet in his brain and end this miserable existence. Kamui was not unfamiliar with suicidal thoughts…hell he might have invented them!

"Fuma…" He exhaled; casting his eyes to the sun softly playing on the fresh green leaves around him. "How could I…?"

Slamming his palms on his face he gave another soul wrenching sigh. "Subaru…oh Subaru…how could I have done this to you?"

His sobs almost shook his body off the branch.

* * *

**Prowling**

The sun shone down on the city of iron, concrete and human sin, making the light breeze hot and humid. It was getting a little bit too hot to stand around in a three-piece suit and trench coat, but nothing in the world would keep the Big Bad Wolf from keeping his style.

Subaru-kun was walking out of a train station opposite to the building Seishiro stood on, looking at the map from the fax he got earlier this morning as he dashed forward. He was on his way to a Sumeragi assignment, and about to be late.

Smiling, Seishiro observed his prey with immense delight. How wonderfully the sun shone off Subaru-kun's hair, how lovely it bounced off his almost sickeningly white skin.

How wonderfully the breeze carried his maboroshi sakura petals into Subaru's view, making him stop dead in his place.

The man stared forward, transfixed, lost in his thoughts. Seishiro had managed to rip Subaru's attention from his mission and plunge him into an emotional whirlpool.

Of course, it wasn't the season when the cherry trees blossom, these petals came from only one source.

"Think about me Subaru-kun, think about me until you feel like screaming and tearing at your hair. Think about me until you're ready to give in to the tree branches and you'll be all mine. And you _are_ mine…only mine, only…"

"Is this all you have to do these days, Sakurazuka-san?"

His 'Kamui' landed on a building top only a meter or so higher than his. He stood with his hands in his bratty little pair of jeans, looking down at him through those black John Lennon shades he thinks are so cool.

"My prey is mine to deal with. My schedule of it is no one's business."

Intentionally, Seishiro did not remove his eyes from the man down on the street.

Only, now Subaru started recovering the little mental shock, checking the time in his wristwatch to see he's five minutes late to his appointment. Ah well, at least Seishiro managed to execute one little reminder of himself in Subaru-kun's life. Now he can handle the little brat behind him.

"I want you to do some work for me." The brat spoke, his tone ice cold and careless.

"Whatever happened to 'please'?" Seishiro sighed. "Kids these days…"

'Kamui' remained unchanged. "You will stop seeing this Seal so often. You will stop encountering him unless it is in order to start a battle over a kekkai."

Seishiro could not keep his eyebrows from soaring high in his forehead as his leader truly took him by surprise (damn that brat, this is the second time he's done that!). He did _not_ just say that, did he?

"That is an order."

And the cowardly little brat didn't even stay around to hear his reply! He took off immediately after clearing that point, keeping the upper hand. Seishiro felt like strangling somebody, the brat preferably.

No one can tell him what to do with Subaru-kun!

Ah, but didn't he have a winning card with last night's events in his arsenal? Wasn't the little boy something 'Kamui' cared about?

No, he won't waste his time on Subaru-kun; he'll spend it playing with the brat's boy. And he just might enjoy it. No, he will _definitely_ enjoy it.

There were so many things he had in store for that boy. He wondered just how much the boy could take?

* * *

**Silence **

The world didn't look any better three days later. His chest did not ache any less for hearts he broke and loyalties he defiled, his head had not become in any way lighter from stormy thoughts.

School, Seals, Tokyo, night, day, all zoomed past Kamui as if he was stuck in suspended animation with the world rushing around him. He was too heavy to reach out and catch up with it. His guilt was a ball and chain at his ankles.

He simply could not bring himself to face Subaru and look him in the eye. Whenever he thought about Subaru, an image of the dreamy eyed tall lean man with a knife in his back popped before his eyes. Was it not him who drove that knife in? Was it not him who slept with Subaru's beloved Seishiro-san?

What did he find in that overly smug asshole, anyway? Staying around in the morning only to stick out like a sore thumb.

And see, he couldn't even _say_ that to Subaru could he? He couldn't even walk up to him and say, "Hey, Subaru, man, what do you find in that guy, anyway! He's a horrible bastard and a sniggering, drooling sex fiend. He's not even good in bed or something!"

No…he couldn't say _that,_ could he.

He couldn't even say Seishiro was no good in bed because Kamui all but had his mind blown out that time, it was the best thing that ever happ-

No! Mustn't think about it! Must tell Subaru…somehow…oh god, somehow, but **how!**

His feet were taking him around his dorms, trying to let the fresh air cheer him up and clear his mind a bit. And there he was, Subaru, sitting in a little wicker gazebo at the corner of a beautiful wisteria garden.

Come on Kamui; are you a man or a mouse? Face the consequences of your foul deeds!

Kamui wandered down the path from the mansion into the garden. He rubbed absently at his wrists that were blue and black, ringed with bruises under his well camouflaging school uniform's sleeves.

Subaru was sitting on one of the inside benches, the onmyouji was deep in thought, gazing out over the grass and trees. Subaru leaned his back against one of the wooden pillars. A forgotten cigarette dangled between his fingers. There was ash on Subaru's pants, but he didn't seem to notice. He didn't seem to notice anything much these days; so sunk in his world of dreams and long forgotten fake kind smiles was he.

"Subaru," Kamui said, resting a hand on one of the gazebo's beams.

Subaru started and his fingers jerked. The delicate column of ash between them crumbled.

"Kamui," Subaru answered and inclined his head as an invitation for the boy to sit.

Kamui did so, hesitatingly, on the other side of the gazebo, but he also reached out to dust the ashes off Subaru's lap.

Subaru seemed a little shocked, but when he looked up and met Kamui's eyes, Subaru was smiling serenely.

Kamui looked away and clenched his hands into fists on his knees.

"Subaru, something happened a few days ago," Kamui began. His eyes began to sting. "I did something terrible."

There was only stillness, and then Kamui could feel the onmyouji drift close. Subaru's warmth was slow and encompassing, nurturing like warm water, not like fire. Not hot and destructive at all.

Yet, Subaru smelled almost the same, faintly of smoke, faintly of sakura. The thought of that man when Subaru was so close, looking concerned and worried, made Kamui's stomach twist.

"Tell me," said Subaru softly. His words were a comforting caress. "Tell me what happened."

"I betrayed two people," Kamui whispered. "One whom I've known forever, the other whom I care about – who made me realize the importance of fighting for my wish. I – I don't know how to tell them."

Subaru rose and turned, until Kamui could only see his back.

"It's important to tell the truth from the beginning," Subaru said, staring out over the landscape.

"Someone once lied to me for a long time and the day he told me the truth – my world ended," Subaru said, his gaze wandering to the still flickering cigarette in his fingers. Subaru crushed it forcefully on the railing. Its spark went out. It left a black dot on the immaculate bright wicker, never again clean and perfect.

Kamui didn't answer.

"You'll tell them soon," Subaru said, taking Kamui's hand. "Let's go back. The sky is becoming grey with clouds. It will rain soon."

Kamui followed, knowing he would never take that advice.

It's different when the truth can hurt the one you love.

* * *

**Empty Mission**

Hinoto's basement shrine was never so dull and pointless, her words never as meaningless as they were to Kamui now.

His head still low, still heavy with thought, Kamui attended the meeting. He forced his attention to the prophetesses' words.

Hinoto wasn't feeling too well, couldn't see dreams; DoE's dreamgazer blocking visions from her. Doesn't know where the next kekkai will shatter, unable to help them, ceremoniously polite and sorry.

"So…what does it mean?" Sorata was the only person Kamui ever saw who could talk and chew at the same time. And he actually makes it possible to understand what he says when his mouth is full, though it took its toll on how he looked when he did that.

They were sitting in a restaurant, discussing the meeting while Sorata and Yuzuriha charged up.

Kamui's eyes begged for sleep. The world became unbearable to withstand. Something was missing.

"I guess it means we have to patrol around Tokyo a lot, just be around if the DoE's try to start something." The neon lights in the restaurant reflected nicely from Arashi's hair. She must be combing it hundreds of times to get it so fine and shiny.

Kamui wished he had the patience to take care of himself like that. Maybe then he wouldn't end up with a mop of knots like his hair.

"Right! We'll split into teams and scan all over Tokyo!" Yuzuriha could give him a maddening headache with that constant cheerfulness…and that'd be on a good day.

"May I join you? I believe I finish work the same time as you do on normal days." Karen asked, leaning forward until her healthy neckline became completely impossible to ignore.

Kamui wished to become air and ride the wind from here to his bed.

Whirlpool in his head. Didn't drink enough perhaps. Crazy weather going super hot after being super stormy yesterday, caught him off-guard, probably dehydrated.

He took a large sip from his plastic soda cup.

"You girls go together then," Sorata said into his fifth meatball. "Me and Kamui, we'll go together." The strong arm he hooked around Kamui's shoulder made the youth's head throb.

Kamui looked out into the city night, his face slightly reflecting on the big restaurant window. He didn't dare look into the eyes of his reflection. Something's missing.

"I'll go alone," he heard himself groan.

Maybe he'll find Fuma. Maybe he'll find some silence to his crazed thoughts. Honestly, being obsessed about Fuma was better than this shit.

His 'friends' were arguing with him, some just sitting and staring at him in silence.

"I want to do this alone. I'll go, I'll be fine. Maybe I'll find Fuma…before he does something too bad."

He got up before they could stop him, walking out of the restaurant before he could hear Sorata yelling, "But you can't make a barrier shield!" into the crowded restaurant. Neither could he hear Arashi's calm scowling for Sorata to keep it down around civilians.

He couldn't hear Seiichiro muttering under his breath that, "Something is going wrong with him…"

* * *

**Mission? What Mission!**

Kamui longed for the cool breeze of the night's air, but the city would have none of that. Even atop the lamppost, the high buildings around him blocked the wind. All those neon lights, open-air restaurant kitchens, so much human activity, if there was coolness to the air it had been heated up a long time ago.

Kamui sat with one knee drawn under his chin, the other dangling carelessly from the lamppost, looking sketchily down at the city below.

Such a bore. Something's missing. Noise in his head. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. Subaru and Fuma.

He leaped back into the crowds, hands in his pockets, head hung, walking past restaurants to sniff the multiple scented air. An average teen on a night out alone.

If a DoE stumbles across him he'll tear them apart right here and now; the last thing he wanted on his mind was this ridiculous fight!

Kamui kicked at a stray soda can, swearing under his breath at anything and anybody within sight.

Where are you Fuma? Where are you when I need you?

Where _were_ you?

Tears made him close his eyes and swear a little more. He couldn't stop them from flowing though, no matter how much he kicked himself mentally for crying in public. Where are all of Tokyo's lampposts when you need them?

Then he felt it, like a pinch to his awareness; the presence.

He raised his head, squinted the tears away and focused.

And there he was; an insolent lone figure. No one can stand out in the middle of such bustling crowds like Seishiro can; no one can force you to recognise him like he can.

Kamui blinked at the heavily suited man in the midst of the careless, ever partying crowd. The bastard was smiling, faintly pointing at the ice cream stand to his left as a hint.

BASTARD! How dare he? With such a careless smile, such a fake mask! Kamui felt like rushing over to him and punching the idiot's stomach through his back!

Standing there, shaking with anger, the storms in his mind buzzing into an unbearable din, Kamui was ready to burst out screaming everything that made him angry at Seishiro.

While he stood there, the assassin walked to the ice cream shop and bought himself two ice cream cones (vanilla and chocolate chip). He eyed the ice cream lady as she poured thick chocolate sauce on the smooth ball of white vanilla ice cream.

He thanked the lady kindly and walked to the simmering youth, holding the vanilla cone at the boy. "Ice cream? It's good for your health."

Ah, the Year was such good practice for sounding like the kind uncle, Seishiro was very proud of his achievements in that field.

Kamui glared at the chocolate smudged ice cream, trying to melt it with the intensity of his glare. The next moment he was gone, off to the closest train station to get him back into Clamp Campus. A good cup of tea and a full night's sleep should do his nerves a world of good.

Abandoned, Seishiro licked at his cone lazily. Never mind. He'll snare the boy some other time.

Hmmm-delicious chocolate syrup…

A plan was formed. He won't snare the boy some other time; he'll snare him _now_.

Weaving a concealing maboroshi around his shiki, Seishiro sent his falcon into the ice cream store.

The ice cream lady wondered where those clicking sounds came from as the shiki's claws hit the smooth glass surface of her counter, waddling clumsily towards the bottle of chocolate syrup.

Seishiro had it in hand within a minute, smiling to himself. He wandered off towards the train station where Little Red Riding Hood disappeared.

He spotted Kamui waiting for the wrong train (wrong in his dictionary, anyway). The boy had his arms crossed on his chest, a permanent frown on his pretty little face, his eyes feverishly staring forward.

Ah yes, little boy, you've felt it too. The tug. Something's missing for you, is it not? If you'd like it, I'll have something missing too. Then maybe we can go to my apartment and take back what went missing, ne?

Kamui's mind was still feverish to a point of physical pain when the smell of sakura, smoke and a little chocolate on the cold breath blown gently into his right ear came.

"You're standing on the wrong platform. This train will take you down to Clamp Campus," the Wolf purred.

"That's where I'm heading," Red Riding Hood snarled back, feeling the bigger man's head was still by his side and stopped him from glaring back at the man.

"You'd be better off using the opposite platform."

"Oh really? And where would that lead me to?"

'Bastard! Bastard! Bastard! I hope the venom in my voice will kill you! Pervert! Bastard! You broke Subaru's heart, you evil twisted bastard!'

"Why, back to my apartment of course. My _penthouse_ that is…" the Wolf answered.

'Tssk, you think flashing money's gonna make me come to you! Bastard!'

"And what the _hell_ makes you think I'd do that?" Red spat back.

'Broke Suabru's heart, bastard…hot breath on my skin…think of Subaru…'

Seishiro didn't answer.

A smooth, thick fluid dripped onto Kamui's neck. It was about to flow into his shirt and stain it when Seishiro bent a little bit further and licked the few drops off with one smooth, long stroke.

The thunders in Kamui's mind silenced, giving way for lightning bolts.

Without words, Seishiro walked off towards the opposite platform, followed just as silently by Kamui.

(tbc)


	4. The Illicit

**Disclaimer: **I do not own X. I own Sei-Sei's cat.

**Author's Thanks 1: **To Whitesakura the co-writer and to Irresistibly Cruel the wise advisor. And, last but not least, my lovely, lovely beta, Cait-hime-sama/

Other many thanks, not a bit fewer than those of the above, go to TrenchKamen for advising me about this story.

**Author's Thanks 2:** For Nancy from the new edition's first reviewer (thank you!), to Mana13 from AFF (thank you!), to Katana from AFF (how did you know Kamui's gonna have a puppy theme this chapter? You must have read my mind!) and to Starkitsune from (thank you so much!).

**Author's Notes: **This is the second edition, re-edited version of Equivocal since I've been feeling that the way the story was told the first time failed to hit the right spot in you readers and get the right result from you.

**Disclaimer 2: **This story is a non-humor satire, aimed to mock a certain way far too many writers focus on the yaoi quartet; Fuma-Kamui-Subaru-Seishiro.

**_Any OOC, over-the-top, non-canon and downright stupid behavior by the characters has its purposes and is NOT written out of the belief that this is how the characters are really or should really be._**

**_

* * *

_**

**Chapter 4: The Illicit**

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* * *

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**Kamui**

A fresh breeze of pine scented air blew gently at Kamui's face as the fancy black wood, silver-framed door to Seishiro's apartment opened before him.

The coolness of the air was nothing but an effect; the air blowing from the apartment had indeed been changed in temperature by Seishiro's first class air conditioner, but it had not been turned to a temperature as low as Kamui sensed it. The air blew into the youth's face that was covered by a thin film of sweat and so it was registered as far colder than it really was.

The fresh pine smell was due to the cleaning lady's visit to the Sakurazukamori's apartment today. A same smelling aerosol Seishiro purchased once the cleaning lady made her choice of cleaning substances matched the scented cleaning liquid. He ordered the woman to spray the stuff into his wide-spaced apartment once every time she finishes her cleaning, just before she leaves. Due to the fact that Seishiro liked to keep his apartment at an artificial temperature he kept his apartment's large windows closed. The cleaning lady came twice a week and so the refreshing smell hung in his apartment's air constantly.

Kamui blinked a few times after noticing that he was still standing at the entrance to the apartment with the man to whom the apartment belonged behind him awaiting his next move patiently.

Swallowing nervously, Kamui stepped in. it was not just the air that was cool, it was Kamui's mind as well. Cool and numb like it is before battle, when you survey the place where you'll soon fight.

Was it the shock of his own actions; following Seishiro like that after such a hint of what might lay ahead of him that made Kamui suddenly numb and cold?

Was it the realization that he is walking into the private domain of the Sakurazukamori now and that after the older man closed the door behind him there might not be a way back, that these might be the very last seconds in which he would live and breathe?

Was it the fact that he had accepted Seishiro's invitation, completely understanding what he was invited to, despite Subaru, despite destiny, despite his love for Fuma?

He kicked his mind back to reality and took the first step into the apartment. The pale light of a single bulb above the door cast a golden halo into the house before Seishiro walked in behind Kamui and flicked the main light switch on.

Registering what lay before him made Kamui gasp.

This was some apartment the Sakurazukamori kept here!

It was so big Kamui could not see the whole of it, no matter how much he turned his head. Such wide spaced apartments were a luxury in Tokyo, no, in the whole of Japan.

As he looked to his left he could see the edge of Seishiro's fingers as they lay on the light panel. A silver panel controlling lights all over the apartment via a computerized system. Such technology, such sophistication!

The living room area, into which the apartment's door opened, was perhaps the biggest of the apartment's room.

Long, wide, terribly comfortable looking black leather sofas lay well organized in the wide space with a stylish silver and white marble modern designed coffee table half circled by the sofas.

To the left of the sofas stood an ebony chest topped by a large cutting edge stereo system. Speakers of various sizes spread across the living room space; one atop the stereo system, two on each side of the _huge_ flat screen television, two others hung on the walls a little away from the television and VCR set and two at the entrance to the small but modern designed kitchen to the left of the living room space.

The television and VCR set, both in glistering silver plastic, lay on another, and wider, ebony chest.

The glass doors of the cabinet under the television held back a pile of various videocassettes, all bought, which Kamui could not recognise yet. If he could read the labels off their spines he would be surprised to find a variety of artistic movies, sophisticated east European movies, several well spoken of Cannes Festival winners' South American movies, all back to back with an amazingly large collection of gay porn videos.

The wall of the living room was made of bullet-proof glass sliding doors leading to a wide white marble balcony. Besides an ashtray, a simple plastic garden table and chair, only a large catnip pot plant stood in the large open-aired space.

To Kamui's right, a wide corridor opened leading to the master bedroom (the second biggest room in the house), the large bathroom equipped with a Jacuzzi, a bidet and a computerized temperature controlled shower.

Beyond the corridor, opposite to the bedroom, lay Seishiro's study containing several trinkets from his traditional home, a fully occupied bookcase (another mixture of literary masterpieces and fiction written specifically for its sex scenes), a small footpad complete with a mechanized massager and a large deep leather sofa to cuddle into and read in peace.

The Sakurazukamori's fax machine lay in his study; which is why Seishiro never bothered to lead Kamui there.

Seishiro stood behind the gasping boy and awaited his prey's next move to act out his plan.

Kamui turned his head to look at the little ebony table by the door. Seishiro's key set was placed there with a small metallic rattle that went ignored by Kamui a few minutes ago.

Next to it stood a small pile of unopened envelopes the cleaning lady placed there for her employer. Kamui scanned the envelopes as much as he could and gathered nothing new about the man behind him. There was a gas bill, an electricity bill, a water bill and a few meaningless commercial spam mails.

A bonsai tree stood on the table. It was a cherry tree, blooming with tiny pink flowers. Its branches were well trimmed and tamed to grow horizontally like a strange savannah tree. Its pot was white marble, cold and glistening.

To his surprise, Kamui noted a small toy by the bonsai's pot, a roughly made tweed mouse.

The sound of tiny bells caught his attention. He turned his head and saw a large sleek black cat gracefully stepping into the living room space. It eyed its owner with big yellow eyes which both recognized and dismissed Seishiro's presence then moved on to his food bowl by the kitchen's entrance.

Kamui felt his brow hurt a bit; unaware of it, he raised his eyebrows in wonder at the sight of a pet belonging to the man he so far thought of as a murderous cold-hearted bastard.

Toeing off his shoes unconsciously, Kamui stepped into the house and walked towards the feeding cat. His feet almost slipped on the shiny smooth parquet floor.

The youth crouched by the plump black cat and offered his hand for the animal to smell.

Once finished with his feeding (and _not_ before that) the cat turned its head to Kamui, sniffed the air a bit and with a tiny shake to the tip of his tail walked back to Seishiro's study where he was napping on the large sofa before his owner's entrance disturbed his slumber.

"Gees, that's some snobbish cat you have here. What's its name?" Kamui climbed back to his feet while scrutinizing the shiny silver food and water bowel.

Seishiro did not answer him. Instead, he walked into his bedroom, while Kamui was courting his cat, and fetched what he wanted from there.

The cold realization struck Kamui again. His Seal comrades will wonder where he is and will interrogate him when he returns.

What will he tell them? That he went off deep into the Tokyo suburbs? That he lost his way and wandered around the city bewildered and confused? Will he lie so bluntly to the people who care for him? Could he?

And what will happen if Subaru would enquire him of his doing? Could he lie to this man who loves the owner of the luxurious apartment Kamui stood in right now?

His eyesight was snatched from him, cutting his train of thought off completely. He reached for his eyes and discovered the silk scarf he bought for his unlucky encounter with Fuma. Gentle tugs to his head meant that Seishiro was securing the blindfold carefully.

Fingers reached into his raven unruly bangs to slightly fluff them above the black strip. What Kamui thought as gentle caresses were mere arrangements of his hair back to esthetical condition.

He was, he realized, just another beautiful trinket Seishiro brought into his apartment. His fists clenched, he was about to say something.

Seishiro placed the black leather collar to the delicate white neck of his prey. He smirked at the lovely contrast between silky alabaster and black rough leather.

Kamui gasped. He could feel something metallic lying on his neck; it was a silver ring attached to the collar.

Seishiro placed the two black leather cuffs on Kamui's hands and watched as the fists unclenched and dangled as their owner fought to realise what was done to him.

He smirked as he noticed the frail back shudder.

"Now, boy, follow me." A metallic click close to his head and a slight tug at his new collar told Kamui that Seishiro will not only use words, but also a chain he had just attached to him to lead him forward.

The chain had two uses to Seishiro; first, it served its purpose in heightening the specific experience Seishiro planned on having with the boy. Second, its length and the distance it built between himself and his prey served well to keep Kamui from hearing Seishiro's rapid breathing as excitement stormed within him.

The blindfold kept Kamui from seeing the painful bulge in Seishiro's pants: twitching in demand for attention to its needs. It kept Kamui from seeing that Seishiro was sweating and excited; that his eyes were afire with desire and lust.

Such a perfect toy he now led down the wide corridor to his bedroom, would he not be excited?

Once inside the bedroom Seishiro attached his end of the chain to his large ebony bed's headboard and stood observing his toy.

His hands lashed forward a bit too eagerly and nearly gave Seishiro's condition away to the bound youth.

The Clamp Campus uniform tie was cast aside carelessly.

The buttons of the starched white shirt were untangled quickly, almost with a single brush of Seishiro's fingertips.

Kamui could feel the digits touching him shook slightly as they traced lines on his chest while removing his shirt.

He wanted to be kissed before being exposed so suddenly. He would have asked the man to do so, but he could not find the strength within him to call out that name with such a demand.

It is true that his head has been reeling since the blindfold was placed on his eyes, that his heart was racing madly, that he was excited and burning with desire, but he was still being stripped by a man he mistrusted as much as he hated.

The fingers fumbled with his belt buckle and squeezed a stutter out of him, "Sei…Saku…ah…kiss me…" His voice came out more hoarse and pleading than he wished it to.

Seishiro smirked. "You should learn some manners young man. When in such a condition as you are now I'd expect you to talk a little less bluntly to me. You will refer to me as 'sir' and you will say 'please' like a good boy when you ask for something."

Kamui's face flushed deep pink around the black silk blindfold. The blush was so deep it reached his ears, though Seishiro couldn't see them under the mass of silky black hair.

"P…please kiss me…s…sir."

"Say that again, in the right sequence now."

Kamui took a deep breath. "Sir, please kiss me sir…please."

"That's a good boy." His thumbs rubbed in slow circles around the boy's delicate pink nipples. His tongue did the same a moment after and made Kamui gasp.

"No…I mean, no sir, not there…please." His delicate flesh was bitten into and he gasped again, whimpering right after.

As he grabbed the side of his prey's beautiful face and leaned in for a passionate, rough, hot kiss, Seishiro slid his hand violently into the boy's partially undone trousers, right into his underwear. What he found there he grabbed powerfully while rubbing it with the base of his palm.

Kamui yelled into the rough kiss and threw his arms around the man involuntarily. His arms were torn away and slapped on the back of each palm making him hiss in surprise. The other hand, the one that did not slap him was still making the bright white stars dance before his closed eyes. He tried begging the man to stop, but it was too late. He fought to stay on his feet as the climax rocked through him.

Withdrawing his hand from the youth's crotch, an idea shot into Seishrio's mind.

"Go down on your knees, boy." He tugged the boy's leash downwards along with the order.

Unwillingly, Kamui obeyed. His legs shook under him, his lower abdomen was burning with the wonderful heat of afterglow, his head spun inside and his mouth was dry. His lower lip complained the rough biting he received with the kiss.

Something wet was smeared across his lips by Seishiro's finger. Kamui lapped at it and nearly coughed; it was his own semen.

"Lick it, boy."

Kamui obeyed. Fear and excitement burned in his stomach but the ice-cold tone carved through them all and forced him to do as he was told. He lapped at the palm before him, trying to imitate a cat, thinking it might hit the right spot for the apparently cat owning Seishiro.

The Sakurazukamori smirked and yanked the boy back to his feet, forward this time.

With his pants bunched at his feet, Kamui almost toppled forward when he tried to walk the in the direction Seishiro led him to.

As he collapsed forward he almost slipped again as his outstretched hands met the soft deep mattress of Seishiro's bed and slippery white satin bedcover.

A further yank signalled Kamui to climb onto the bed. Seishiro walked all the way around the bed to yank Kamui to the middle of the bed. With one palm he signalled Kamui closer to him and with the other he unbuttoned his own pants and pulled out his straining erection.

The yanking stopped and Kamui began settling down on the bed on all fours when he felt the head of a hot, rock hard penis nudge at his lips. Fingers wove into his hair and gripped it, nudging his head forward. He opened his mouth.

"Mind your teeth, boy." Seishiro cringed backwards involuntarily. "You've never done this before have you?"

Kamui gulped and tried better. He earned a deep-throated moan. The fingers in his hair pulled at it painfully.

"Keep it in your mouth, don't spit boy, swallow."

With some bitterness, Kamui obeyed and frowned.

"Good boy." Seishiro pushed the boy down to the mattress. He pinned the delicate wrists to the headboard. Linking the chain through the metal rings on the leather cuffs, Seishiro bound Kamui's hands to the black wood.

Kamui was breathing heavily, shaking all over. His excitement, melting with his fear, made his head buzz. If only he could look at the man who just rendered him helpless and exposed…

He felt a hot wet tongue circle across his chest again, the hot breath making his sweat-covered skin feel cool. His lower lip quivered as he whimper-stuttered into the pine-smelling cool air.

His underwear was yanked off his body leaving him completely exposed. He tried closing his legs but found that the man had placed himself between them and by the feel of iron stiff fingers on his inner thighs he realised they were needed open.

The tongue travelled down his belly making him giggle and squirm. Whenever he moved he could feel teeth grazing against his skin as punishment and stopped.

Seishiro was enjoying this to no end; this beautiful perfect body was splayed before him helplessly for him to ravish. He looked down on the perfect white skin, the delicate limbs, all so available like a delicious meal. The sauce he borrowed from the ice cream parlour served to make this a finer meal.

Seishiro reached out to his ebony bedside cabinet and fished his tube of lubricant from the first drawer. His hand stopped as it collided with hard plastic.

He peeked into his drawer and snickered silently.

Kamui gasped as his entrance was tested gently, and then breached violently. Strange, he thought, surely Seishiro would feel hotter than this.

When the buzzing started Kamui yelped loudly, arching his back until he almost leaped up from the mattress. He couldn't do anything but squirm on the mattress, shiver and whimper. His eyes were running as he begged Seishiro to pull it out.

"Please sir…oh god no…no…please sir, please…take it out...oh my god no…"

The cool pine smelling air around him contained a low-voiced snigger that shunned Kamui's pleading.

"Please sir, I'm begging you take it...aaa…haaa!" His voice was high pitched, almost shrilling as the device brought him to climax.

Seishiro's laughter was cold and bloodthirsty, mocking as it rolled into the cold air.

Kamui was shivering on the bed. The blush reached all the way to his shoulders.

He was crying fully now, as a certain onmyouji invaded his mind.

What would Subaru think of him might he see him like this? What would the Seals think?

He turned his head away, burying it in his arm, and cried into the black silk.

His tears went ignored.

A hot palm rested on his lower belly and snapped Kamui back to his desires.

The hot tongue was tracing curly lines down his collarbone to his nipples again. Hot fingers massaged his inner thighs and relaxed them to open up a bit more.

As his chest was explored again, his legs were hurled to lie on two wide strong shoulders and Kamui's mind blanked as he realised what would happen next.

What entered him now was definitely Seishiro.

The Sakurazukamori was thrusting into him powerfully, savagely, pounding him harder and harder as he chased his own climax down. After seeing his toy's reaction to the vibrator his hunger to feel the boy around him burned like a raging fire within him.

Kamui was yelping again, fragments of his name, fragments of begging words to go faster, harder, take me sir, take me.

There was something Seishiro wanted to see the boy do again if he planned on having that pure brilliance of an orgasm like last time.

He dipped his fingers in the brown little puddle by the knocked down chocolate syrup tube and placed it on the boy's mouth again.

His prey was in no state of mind to object to anything at the moment. If there was common sense in his mind it had melted down with the white-hot pleasure, the excitement of his unusual acts and the 'forbidden fruit' taste of it all. Willingly, he sucked on the fingers in his mouth.

Kamui was too spent to climax this time, but he gained his pleasure from the man pounding into him. He could feel the thrusts getting more and more desperate and short until finally he could feel the small shudder, the delicate twitching, and the thrusts stopped.

The mattress to his left sank a bit as Seishiro planted his arm at his side to lean on and recover.

He could hear the man was breathing heavily, panting even, and his blush deepened.

He felt something dripping on his chest and realised he made the man sweat. His heart skipped a beat. He shunned it immediately.

Fuma…where was Fuma now? Could he sense him here, doing this?

His hands were untied from the headboard. Kamui rubbed his aching wrists and shoulders. The tips of his fingers were numb with the lack of blood they suffered.

He sat up on the bed and rubbed himself. Seishiro sat a little distance away and observed the boy.

An hour ago the boy refused him and hissed at him to go away, leave him alone. Now the boy sat bewildered and spent on the bed.

Oh, the great shining innocence besmirched. Oh, the pure goodness of the Dragons of Heaven's leader tainted so. Seishiro smiled brightly and sent his finger idly across his toy's chest.

The boy shuddered under his touch and whimpered.

Seishiro leaned across the bed and yanked the boy back to the headboard. He tied the chain's free end to the headboard and left the bed to fish for his boxers.

While he applied his little vibrating toy to the boy he had undressed himself carelessly and only after a good few minutes of search did he find them cast under the bed.

He walked out of the room to feed his cat, sat brushing it on the sofa watching the evening news, ate some dinner and only then walked back to his bedroom to resume his deeds; an hour and a half later.

An hour and a half in which Kamui lay in bed recovering; then doubting…then fearing…then contemplating…then finally regretting.

When Seishiro walked in and started another session, Kamui altogether forgot.

* * *

The night outside was warm and pleasant and there really wasn't any need for Kamui's upturned shirt collar.

Only Kamui was not trying to hide his neck from a harsh blowing wind; he was trying to hide the love bite on his neck.

His shirt's long cuffs were closed tight thus stopping the leather cuffs he was still wearing from slipping out of his shirt and making themselves visible.

Either Seishiro had a hand fetish or he just liked marking his territory there, Kamui decided, because now both he and Subaru were in a sense marked by him on their hands.

Maybe, just maybe, Seishiro knew Kamui would have more trouble hiding the collar than the cuffs, seeing how the days were getting chilly enough to wear your shirts with long sleeves.

Could it have been an act of consideration? Kamui blinked into his shock.

The subway swayed on its tracks and nearly sent Kamui tumbling to the floor. His hand holding the plastic loop to gain more balance in the car shook a bit, its upright position reminded him of its early state bound to the headboard. He blushed.

The car around him was almost deserted save for a few workaholic corporate drones coming back home too late, making Kamui pray Aoki was not amongst them.

He could have picked a nice bench to sit on, but his sore rear end made him refuse the silent offer.

He tried sitting earlier, he even chose the more comfortable looking seat, but he still hurt and so he leaped to his feet and stood in the car hoping no one eyed him suspiciously.

His neck still hurt a bit from Seishiro's last trick.

Kamui blushed even deeper as the fresh memory of being on all fours, his back straightened by one palm on it while his neck was yanked as high in the air as he could without suffocating. Being like that made Seishiro unable to pleasure him but somehow Kamui still came.

Thinking about it made Kamui shudder and clutch the plastic hoop tighter. His legs wobbled and it was suddenly very cold.

But this is definitely the last time he's doing this, sleeping with that bastard, it was enough the son of a bitch left him to wait in bed forever before he came back again!

He looked out to the sights of the city at night through the car's windows. The neon lights drew long glowing lines as the subway car zoomed past them with great speed.

Kamui sighed.

He loves Fuma! Is _in love_ with Fuma! Will _always_ love Fuma!

What was he doing today?

...Uh…gaining…experience, perhaps? So as not to be an innocent blushing virgin when his time would truly come with Fuma?

Ridiculous, isn't it? Yes, it is…but he still loved Fuma with all his heart.

Seishiro the Sadistic Bastard is another issue that Kamui preferred not to think about right now.

* * *

"What's the noise?"

"What noise?"

"I don't know…like metallic clicking or something."

"M…metallic…" Dread filled Kamui.

It made a mess out of his concentration on what the teacher was dictating.

It's enough that his handwriting is a mess to begin with, but when he writes quickly it becomes almost completely unreadable. As he jotted Kyle-sensei's missed words as quickly as he could to catch up with what he heard now he winced at the sight of his notebook. That damn teacher won't slow down!

"Listen, I can hear it! It's definitely something metallic clicking on the table! Can't you hear it, Kamui?" Keiichi bent over to whisper closer to Kamui's ear.

The boy flinched back and blushed. Keiichi was taken aback. Did Kamui just…really pick up the hint? Finally…his heart skipped a beat. Oh, wow!

Keiichi misinterpreted it. Kamui blushed not because of the voice of his friend getting closer to him, but because he traced the source of Keiichi's mysterious metallic clicking.

The metal ring on his right wrist's cuff was dancing on the table as he wrote down the teacher's words. He bit his lower lip and re-positioned his hand so that it would not move so much on the table.

"Hey, the clicking stopped."

"Shhh Keiichi, I'm trying to listen to the teacher."

"Oh…sorry." Now it was Keiichi's turn to blush as the boy he always regarded as beautiful and amazing, perhaps a future boyfriend, sent a harsh glare and a hiss at him.

On the inside Kamui felt like leaping out of class through the window, hopping across Tokyo until he located the Sakurazukamori and, once he found him, kicking his ass.

He wouldn't really kick his ass, would he? If anyone's ass will be in any form of pain it'll be his.

Kamui has taken to patrolling around town a lot lately, where he 'accidentally' met Seishiro.

He didn't mean to do that actually, he wanted to be a useful DoH and stop feeling guilty after each time he comes back from patrols with a love bite lurking somewhere on his body.

But Seishiro would track him down. All the time…_every_ time…

They'd go to the Sakurazukamori's apartment…or to a nearby relatively dark and shadow-filled park or a public toilet. Seishiro liked Kamui to squirm and fight to silence himself might they be caught.

Or maybe Seishiro was just an exhibitionist? That would explain the ordeal on the penthouse's balcony.

Kamui begged and gasped and grovelled and said so many "Sir"s and "Please"s that he was sick of the sound of his own voice by the end of it. But Seishiro would not let go.

Bent over the balcony's railing, gasping and withering, shuddering and sweating with excitement and orgasm, Kamui could only wish that Fuma would not leap on the rooftops somewhere near them and see him in this act of…

Kamui shook himself back to reality and realised that he had just missed a whole page of what the teacher dictated to them. Damn, and there's a test in three days! He'll ask Keiichi to lend him his notebook later.

For now, he realised, there's no use in pretending to be a good student when you're mind is in the gutter.

He placed the pencil down by his notebook, leaned his chin on his hand and daydreamed.

Why was he daydreaming about Seishiro? He should be daydreaming about Fuma like he always does when class is boring and his morning woody is lingering.

He shouldn't think about that bastard who hurt Subaru like that! He shouldn't because Subaru is his good friend and has done so many nice things for him. Why, if it weren't for Subaru, Kamui would have failed his last math exam!

No, if it weren't for Subaru he'd stay in bed, inside his heart, forever running away from reality.

He will pay a visit to the onmyouji today.

* * *

"What's that smell? Have you begun smoking, boy?"

Seishiro's nose was planted in the juncture between Kamui's slender neck and his slim shoulder, teeth grazing over the delicate skin.

Kamui did not feel like talking at the moment. Pinpointing what Seishiro was talking about was a bit too difficult at the moment; it meant he had to row through the gushing waves of hormones and dark red burning passion to form a coherent thought.

This was difficult since he was half naked and they were in the very back of a subway station where anyone might walk in and discover them, but most of all it was difficult to concentrate on what Seishiro was referring to because the man was deep inside him and thrusting the sanity out of Kamui's mind at the moment.

"I asked you a question, boy." The sneaking suspicion that crept into Seishiro's mind banned all thoughts of carnal pleasure with this boy.

"No, I don't smoke, it's bad for you." Did he just look into the eyes of that bastard and said it like he cares about him?

"Then why do you smell of cigarettes, boy?" The eyes returned a powerful, dangerous glare.

- - - - - -

"Subaru-san?"

"Ah, Kamui, good day. How are you?"

"I'm fine…." Kamui was about to tell his friend not to bother with putting a cigarette out because he's used to the smoke's smell now that he spent many afterglows with a man who likes to smoke after sex...and before it…but he decided against it.

"You look disturbed, please sit down." Subaru removed his legs from the sofa he stretched himself on and patted the now vacant seat by him to signal Kamui.

The boy plopped down by the onmyouji and spent a good few minutes staring forward at Subaru's dorm's television set.

He never noticed how small it looked, how backwards technologically it seemed, how poor this dorm's furnishing now seemed.

Once he had been excited at the sight of furnishing in his own independent apartment, as poor as it was, for it meant he was responsible for his own life. Kamui had moved on from the 'penniless student surviving barely but proudly' phase. He moved to the next stage, the 'found a source of better living quality' phase.

Now Kamui was starting to get used to larger, more luxurious furnishings with a plump and scornful black cat curling up on them once in a while.

Actually, Kamui had gotten into trying to bond with the cat, heaven only knows why. He'd pick the cat up and cuddle it (which earned him several bites and scratches), sit down by it and try making it purr (lasts about five seconds before the cat would bite him to stop it because Kamui would not provide him with the right fondling).

Most of the time the cat came to him only when asking for attention when its master was too spent to get up and refill its food bowl. Kamui didn't even know the cat's name and already he felt obliged to it, to take good care of it and satisfy it.

Brilliant, isn't it, he was now toyed and owned not only by the Sakurazukamori but also by his _cat_…

"What's on your mind, Kamui?"

Kamui never noticed how Subaru's voice was so soft and calm when speaking to him. Kamui knew Subaru could speak harshly; even yell at someone if he needed to, but whenever he'd speak to him, Subaru had such a warm and caring quality to him. It was like snuggling up into a duvet heated by the sun on a cold crisp winter morning.

He snapped. Crushing into the onmyouji's surprised arms. Kamui wrapped his arms around the slim back and burst into tears.

Subaru's palm rubbed his back softly, his chin rested gently on Kamui's head.

"Shhh, it's alright, it's alright, tell me what's wrong Kamui…"

Kamui whimpered a mumbled version of what's on his mind: a lie.

He was worried about Fuma (which was halfway true) and missed Kotori (which was very true) and wanted his mommy here (also true) and worried about the fate of the earth (great, big, whooping lie) and was frustrated and miserable in general (frustrated no more, miserable only at times…most of the time…five seconds after the afterglow).

Oh, right, he forgot to tell Subaru that he's sleeping around with his boyfriend…

Subaru nodded and "hmm"ed into it all, listening to every complaint the boy muttered, asking him to repeat it when he couldn't make out his words through the sobs and whimpers.

When he calmed down a bit, Kamui nearly jumped out of his skin as he sensed something; Subaru was hard. Which is exactly what Kamui needed right now. Not. He wondered if he has 'fuck toy for onmyoujis of all kinds' written on his forehead.

And where the hell **_is_** Subaru's mind at the moment?

He swallowed deeply and withdrew trying to make the reason for it as oblivious as possible.

"Uh…Subaru-san…thank you," he mumbled, unable to look the man in the eye.

"Please Kamui, call me by my name, without the honorific."

Kamui shot his eyes to the onmyouji's. Then he smiled "Sure, Subaru…"

Subaru smiled at him.

Kamui liked to make the man smile like that, a true soft smile. Even with all the things he's doing as of late, he can still make the man smile "I'm glad…I'm glad I can make you smile, Subaru," he mumbled before thinking.

Subaru's eyes widened and a slight blush covered his cheeks "Ah…thank you…" He looked away bashfully. His nimble finger fumbled with his cigarette pack, pulling one cylinder out and reaching it to his lips shakily.

"I'd like to make you smile too, Kamui."

If Sorata hadn't come into the room that moment looking for Kamui, the boy would have stayed there stammering and moving giddily trying to tell Subaru that it's not like that, it's not what he's thinking, please don't get so excited over me, I'm not worth it, honestly.

- - - - - -

"Come boy." Seishiro's harsh tone yanked Kamui out of the memory. It must have been that hug which placed Subaru's smell on him.

Seishiro did not take it lightly. He was angry, very angry. He ordered his toy to dress himself and come with him to his penthouse.

Kamui never had such rough treatment like he received later that night.

It served two purposes, like a double edged sword. It served to plant a very real fear in his heart. It also served to carve Seishiro deeper into Kamui's awareness.

On the subway car back home Kamui looked out the window and made a silent prayer. He wished to sort his heart out, to make sense in this chaos he started in his life as of late.

He couldn't sit down again, though lately he had been able to do it again. But not tonight, tonight Seishiro was extremely rough with him and Kamui knew it was punishment for being in touch with Subaru.

So the bastard still cared for Subaru…did it upset him because he hated the way the bastard treated Subaru?

Or was there another reason for his heart to feel sour and resentful?

"Ah, Kamui-kun! How surprising to meet you at this time of the day."

Kamui blinked the veil of thoughts out of his sight to look at the editor before him.

Seiichiro beamed a warm fatherly smile at Kamui making the boy feel like breaking into tears again.

If he breaks into tears, if he seeks out the man's embrace and comfort, would Seishiro be angry with him might he find it out as he did about Subaru today?

Stop thinking ridiculous thoughts already!

"Kamui-kun, is everything alright?"

"Ah…yes…um…"

"How was your patrol? You must have exhausted yourself, you look drained."

_Drained_ was a good word for it…

"Uh…yes…no Dragons of Earth though…"

"Ah yes, but it's a good thing, really."

"Yes it is." No it isn't! Kamui wanted to see Fuma! All those patrols he wished to meet Fuma, even if the man would only end up hurting him! He just wanted to _see_ Fuma again.

What if Fuma knew and shunned him out? What if he disappeared from Kamui's sight on purpose, to punish him? Kamui gasped at the tears forming in his eyes. He blinked them away before the editor could notice them.

"I took a day off next week. I've arranged for Kasumi-san and I to go out on a patrol as well for the whole day. How does that sound to you, Kamui-kun? Some help from us old folks? Ha, ha, ha."

Kamui forced a tiny smile on his lips.

"At last I'll feel like I'm doing something after you kids running around town so much, working so hard."

Kamui nodded, his mind already miles away.

"But Kamui-kun, you look exhausted, you really should take better care of yourself…"

'Blah, blah, blah…I'm a big four eyed nerd…blah, blah, blah…the soap-land mistress makes me hard…blah, blah, blah…I hope my wife doesn't suspect.'

Kamui tried not to snigger.

* * *

**Seishiro**

The damn brat still messed with his Subaru-kun! God damn it. No matter how much he lashed out at the boy today it still did not quench the burning fire in his temples.

He thought he tricked Little Red Riding Hood with this sex and games, he thought he tore the kid's mind away from his property, he thought he put an end to it. But apparently the cheeky little brat still fucked around with what was _his_. **_HIS_**.

Seishiro stopped himself before punching the sofa's pillow to his left. Sitting in his living room, contemplating things with his fifth cigarette since the sex between his lips, Seishiro seethed as much as a man of his status and profession could.

His cat kicked its rear legs in sleep, chasing something in his dreams.

Seishiro crushed the cigarette into the black glass ashtray and stormed out of the room. He will not let that boy-toy claim his Subaru-kun! His prey was his and no one else's; his prey will not play with one another!

He slammed his apartment's door behind him.

* * *

**Subaru**

Of all the visits of that sort, this visit must have been the most burning, passionate, enthusiastic meetings Subaru ever had with Seishiro.

Of course, he mistook it all, seeing the world through his black and pink tainted glasses.

He mistook angry ownership to passion. He mistook the carving, clutching, clawing fingers to needy ones. He saw possessive and seething eye as lustful. He mistook the quickness of it to Seishiro's need of him, when it was the need to mark his territory and be over with it before his already drained resources would fail him in the worst of places.

When it was over, Subaru lay in bed feeling how his body was so pressed into the mattress from his early activities that he was actually sunk into it even after the bigger man left the room.

He stared up at the ceiling and smiled. Seishiro still needed him, still wanted him, still recognised him as his, as existing.

He caressed the back of his palms and his smile broadened.

So what if Seishiro left in a hurry? So what if he was short tempered and bordering on aggressive? So what if he stormed into his apartment without a word, only a knowing smirk and claimed him almost immediately.

Subaru lived for these encounters, as often painful and humiliating as they were. They were the links in the chain of his life, the stuff that made him wake up and drag himself out of bed whenever dark clouds named Hokuto and love for a non-existing veterinarian hung over his head. The encounters soothed the pain of being stabbed in the back at sixteen.

He sighed deeply and gave into his exhaustion. He'll clean himself up tomorrow morning; right now he didn't mind falling asleep even in his sweaty, semen-y state.

If he sleeps like this he can close his eyes and imagine that he is sleeping with Seishiro-san.

* * *

**Fuma**

An arm hooked across his waist, pulling him closer to the neatly suit-draped strong body.

Fuma removed the strong fingers from his body one by one and gently removed the whole limb off of him. It didn't help, the other arm hooked around him.

"These leather coats suit you wonderfully, you know." A deep purring voice sent a wave of cigarette smoke past Fuma's ear over to his nose.

"Would you like one?" the smoky voice asked when he noticed the teen picking up the cigarette's scent.

"No thank you, I am busy at the moment Sakurazuka-san."

Ah, such coldness! Was the brat trying to punish him for claiming his prey last night? Perhaps he's trying to punish him for claiming what's his against his direct order.

Oh, I'm so sorry /Kamui, am I stepping on your toes too hard? Am I being a bad underling?

"What are you doing?" Seishiro looked around the room at the minimal urban furnishing soft wood and simple builds. The desk with its piles of study books, the bookcase with its lazily stacked piles of half-heartedly read youth's books; Shonen magazines and classic literature schools force their students to buy and read for class.

"I have moved the boy named Fuma's belongings to this room." The Dragon picked up a cardboard box full of stuffed toys and placed it neatly by the simple single bed.

Seishiro scanned the poster of the famous American basketball player when the glinting golden trophies on the little cabin under it grabbed his attention.

"You played basketball a lot didn't you/Kamui?"

"The boy called Fuma did. I do not need to play basketball these days; I have far better things to do."

"Oh right….so…why are you moving all this stuff here?" He noticed the way Fuma's eyes tracked him as he lazily began dribbling the basketball across the black marble room at the bottom of the Metropolitan building. If I take another of your toys into my hands will you snap, Fuma-kun?

"The latest Yamanote derailing action started a fire that had by now consumed the house formerly belonging to the Togakushi shrine."

"You mean your old home was about to burn down and before it did you pulled all your old sentimental belongings out of it?"

"I have no sentimental belongings. I do not need sentimental belongings of this body's former life." Monotonous, but getting heated with anger. If Seishiro presses him more maybe he'll be able to crack that annoying condescending shell the brat has.

"Uh-huh…you _need_ these sentimental belongings because you are _empty_ and meaningless when you're not out there, ruining a building or two."

The Dragon stared at Seishiro. There was a twitch at the very edges of his eyes. Seishiro smirked.

Now he will get back at the brat for reading him so openly whenever they spoke. Now he will show the brat who's the man here, and who is too young and inexperienced, Kamui or no Kamui, to boss _him_ around.

"Doesn't it hurt? The emptiness…the sheer meaninglessness of your existence? Put upon this world for someone else, built to serve a purpose; you had nothing before you awakened, when you win you'll have nothing to live for anymore."

He was pushing the Dragon backwards until the youth's legs hit the bed and they both came tumbling down on it.

Seishiro's intense eye bore into the Dragon's eyes, never leaving them as his cold collected voice spoke on.

"Doesn't it hurt? The way you are meaningless, useless without one boy, without a city you can easily destroy with a whiff of your hand? Ah, but you can destroy it in one big attack from all of us Harbingers. You could use the fact that Kamui can't bring himself to hurt you and slay the boy easily. But you wouldn't do that, would you? Because when it was all over where would you be?"

His fingers worked across the buttons of the Dragon's leather coat. One hand opening the coat while the other dealt with the buttons of the white shirt under it to expose the teen's skin as quickly as possible.

Seishiro's hunger rose to new levels. This was exciting! Another prey, another conquest! And what a prey he finally snagged.

Oh, the fun he would gain from claiming this youth as well, from informing his precious Little Red Riding Hood of his doings.

He can twist and manipulate this new situation to his delight in so many ways. He will make them dance and watch it all from above like a smug puppeteer.

"So, now you collect the relics of your former life trying to bring some meaning into your empty life, trying to find a name to give to the face you see in the mirror.

"You think you're the Dragon of Earth's Kamui and nothing else, that you don't care about anything else, but you're lying to yourself, bluntly."

The DoE Kamui's breathing was even and calm. His eyes blinked from time to time as they stared up at Seishiro carelessly. He lay there stiff as a manikin even though Seishiro had unbuttoned his shirt completely and was now running his fingers greedily across tanned skin stretched tightly above well-carved muscles.

"When this war is over where will you be? What will you do? Destiny will discard you like a used plastic cup and forget all about you."

"I do not care about that; it does not bother me." the Dragon's voice was calm and slow, pronouncing the words as clearly as he could.

"If I were you, who was born to serve the cherry blossom burial mound and for that only, I wouldn't make such snippy comments about other people's seemingly empty lives."

This comment dealt enough of a shock to the assassin above him to allow the Dragon to sit up on the bed away from the entrapping body above him.

"Now, if you do not mind, I have many more things to do today, I would appreciate it if you climbed off of me."

Seishiro backed away, glaring at the youth. He collected himself a fragment of a second later.

"Hn, very well then Kamui." He bent down and picked a stuffed bunny out of the box by the youth's bed and played with it a little bit.

The Dragon had noted it, but ignored it.

Seishiro stood there for a while longer, toying with the bunny and trying to grab the youth's attention. He failed. With a shrug he turned around and left the room.

The Dragon sighed. "You are childish, Harbinger Sakurazuka, so very childish," he said as he dusted off Fuma's old pile of Young King Ours magazines.

(tbc)


	5. The Hanged Man

**Disclaimer: **I do not own X. I own Sei-Sei's cat.

**Author's Thanks 1: **To Whitesakura, the co-writer **_who wrote most of this chapter_**, to Irresistibly Cruel, the wise advisor and to my lovely, lovely beta, Cait-hime-sama.

Other many thanks, not a bit fewer then the those of the above, go to Trench Kamen for advising me about this story.

**Author's Thanks 2:** To Nancy from (again, thank you! This fic is aimed directly at those horrid X badfics), LadyYeinKhan from (yes, you reviewed it, but it doesn't matter, you can review more and more to your heart's content, tee hee. And ah! You get to go to Japan! I want to go to Japan! Take me with you!), Slover Pink from (will Kamui and Fuma meet? Well….it's up for me to find out and you to guess, just kidding. There will be some F/K action in future chapters, don't worry), Fin Mafient from (batshit insane…uh…thanks? No, kidding, thank you and I hope you'll enjoy the rest of the fic!) and to Feather-chan from (smut is this fic's middle name, baby! Waiting for the climax huh? Have I not provided you with enough?).

**Author's Notes: **This is the second edition, re-edited version of Equivocal, since I've been feeling that the way the story was told the first time failed to hit the right spot in you readers and get the right result from you.

**Disclaimer 2: **This story is a non-humor satire, aimed to mock a certain way far too many writers focus on the yaoi quartet; Fuma-Kamui-Subaru-Seishiro.

**_Any OOC, over-the-top, non-canon and downright stupid behavior by the characters has its purposes and is NOT written out of the belief that this is how the characters are really or should really be._**

**_

* * *

_**

**Chapter 5 – The Hanged Man**

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**Late Night Stroll  
**  
He's not sure when he lit the cigarette, but in a sudden rush of clarity, he feels the smoke burn down his trachea, curl like an electric eel into his lungs, caressing the rasped length between his mouth and his lungs.

He looks at the nearly empty pack in his hand. Only two cigarettes left. He's already finished a pack, he really shouldn't think about getting another one, but there's no real reason not to.

For a moment, he thinks of purple eyes, a face full of concern, but Kamui isn't here.

Subaru thinks of gentle smiles and hands and a sly, sly mouth, soft and curving and full of flirtations. Seishiro isn't here either. Seishiro Sakurazuka, the veterinarian, never existed.

Subaru throws the carton down on the asphalt in a sudden flash of rage.

He stares at the crinkled carton lying at his feet. The wind shifts and it suddenly rocks, back and forth, but without enough energy to actually get it anywhere.

Subaru's lungs exhale worn, poisonous, grey fumes; inhales a new, deadlier batch.

His eyes water watching his cigarette bloom red in sudden brilliance. The smoke got in his eye and it stings. No matter how many times it happened it will always burn the same.

Subaru's not sure when he started smoking years ago, or how he ended up on this street right now, in a neighbourhood full of bars and X-rated neon signs flashing filthy seduction like a whore parting her legs.

Subaru sweeps low, grabs his misplaced box of cigarettes and pulls out the remaining cancer sticks before tossing the carton away for good this time.

His sweaty fingers leave faint grimy marks on the box's glossy surface. He doesn't remember the last time he had a bath. Too many onmyouji duties, too many fights as a Dragon of Heaven, mundane tutoring sessions with Kamui in the day, painful, illicit dreams about Seishiro at night.

The dreams leave him retching with want, burning with self-loathing and calling out piteous whimpers.

After Subaru wakes from those dreams, the brands on Subaru's hands always flicker on in an explosion of light and injury and Subaru clutches at them, wondering if Seishiro feels what his prey dreams of.

On the street, Subaru kicks aside the limp carcass of a dead rat.

Subaru remembers the smoke not only helps him to concentrate, but to also wipe the dry, nauseous taste from his mouth congealed from the nightmares that alternately cut and lick at his control. The smoke now stops him from biting his own tongue. He's suddenly very afraid that Seishiro knows about the dreams, about how he wants them almost as much as he wants the Wish.

Subaru's feet still.

A part of Subaru is excited. Maybe if Seishiro knows, he will come back to him. Come back to hurt Subaru in some new twisted way.

Subaru is so willing to hurt, so willing if Seishiro would only look at him again; touch him again with possessive, murderous fingers. They're never gentle, never like balm or medicine or warm bath water that soaks into the marrow of one's bones.

Only Kamui is a little bit like that. Kamui reminds Subaru of himself a little, when he was a teenager and naive, but innocent. Underneath everything, Kamui is kind.

Subaru used to be kind, he no longer believes he is.

He's kind when Kamui comes over with bags of food and Sorata in toe. Karen comes over too, when she's not working. They cook something for him, making up an excuse that they're testing a new recipe on him.

Subaru sees right through the lie and eats anyway, pretending to be a good boy now and be a human being. He's kind when he lets them think they've reached him and made a change.

If they saw through the lie they'd be heartbroken; they'd realize how pathetic they are for trying to help him.

After they leave, the extra food they buy stays in his tiny fridge undisturbed. Often Subaru'll open his fridge's door to see what brand new colours the food in it turned into, how furry it became with fungi and rot.

Subaru knows he hasn't been eating very well. He hasn't been sleeping well or taking care of himself lately.

Hokuto-chan used to do that for him. It used to be that Subaru simply forgot to do it himself, because he was so worried about others, but now, it's because Subaru doesn't think he's worth taking care of himself.

It's very late, but the pubs are still open and, with his keen hearing, Subaru can still perceive people bickering, laughing, singing together.

He ducks into an alleyway where no one will hear him and slumps against the stone wall of one of the numerous taverns that populate this area of Tokyo.

Everything that weighs on him is heavy, so heavy.

People drink to forget their sorrows, but Subaru's are etched in his skin.

They'll never go away.

Subaru sinks down, into rancid refuse mixed with stale water, and finally lets himself cry.

**Nascent**

Is there such a thing as fate, as destiny?

Since he was small, he has been taught of his lineage. The blood that runs through his veins is that of the Sumeragi, containing years of memories, of power, of burden and responsibility. Subaru is the 13th clan head, one who was assigned the role of a Dragon of Heaven, and one who is inexplicably bound to another, his enemy, his family's nemesis.

What's the use of lineage, anyway? It's not like Subaru can pull the spirits of his great fathers and talk to them. Maybe they'd help the side of him that wants to kill the Sakurazukamori more than anything. Maybe they'd beat some sense into the side of him that wants to sleep with the Sakurazukamori more than anything.

Subaru's absolutely certain that, in a sense, onmyoujis work so hard to make spirits calm down and be happy for the sole purpose of preserving themselves good spots in the next world.

Why else won't they _come and_ _fucking help_ _him_!

Is there such a thing as fate? When two opposites are destined to feud, how can one wish for something else, when that something else is only an illusion?

Kamui was destined to fight his twin, but he was not fated to love him.

Subaru understands the heart. It makes its own choice against lines and wills and  
kismet. Sometimes, it makes a choice that can only hurt. Sometimes, it makes even a pebble beautiful.

Subaru has wished for that moment, slick and warm and red.

To stare into Seishirou's eyes and for a moment become more than just a plaything. To bleed. For his heart to finally have the words. The last confession, when an answer isn't needed, only the sense of connection of that moment, when the world is bright like glass, shattering into a million pieces. A moment like falling out of love, run in reverse. When what is broken is swept away and whatever had lingered can finally find peace.

Subaru knows the heart.

He has never truly understood other people, because they often do not listen to their own. He knows why. The day he learned that was the day his youth ended and Hokuto had walked away, dressed in white shikifuku, with such sad, sad green eyes.

Kamui is standing by the window. The morning bathes his pale skin with soft brightness and the harsh lines of his slim outline are made into gentle curves.  
There's turmoil in the boy's eyes and a guilt that even Subaru isn't too blind to see.

The cigarette is dark in Subaru's mouth and even though he has not lit it, for Kamui's sake, the smell of smoke permanently lingers on Subaru's skin like the possessive brands etched into it years ago.

Is there such a thing as destiny?

When he looks at the boy he sees a young man shining like someone who breaks destiny, who laughs in its face and does as he wishes. Was it because he was given two destinies? Or is it something else Kamui's doing?

Subaru only knows that when Kamui finally turns to look at him, Subaru still wishes to touch tenderness even though his hands are blemished.

And he still wishes for blemished hands to touch his tenderness.

* * *

**A Pair of Sinners**

Watching smoke curl its way in faint blue transparent scarves became something for Kamui to set his mind on when guilt spoils his afterglow.

That and watching whatever he has splattered on his body slowly congeal. Only, fluids-watching soon became too much of a foothold for his guilt, so he stopped it after the tenth time he met Seishiro in private.

He punched the pillow under his head into better supporting shape and snuggled closer under the silk covers to observe the smoke in silence.

The day was hot. Their acts made them even hotter, and now as they lay on their king sized crime scene, the heat reflected back to them from the thick mattress. So Seishiro set the air conditioner to more power.

When he got up to fish for the machine's remote control, Kamui scanned the man's naked body and found that he was smiling contently at the sight.

And his guilt burst out like a maddened storm.

So he concentrated on the smoke Seishiro now produced with his second after-sex cigarette.

Exhaled smoke is no fun, not the type Seishiro produced anyway. It shoots into the air in a single gush when Seishiro exhales, then it crushes in midair as if hitting an invisible wall, and slowly disappears ungracefully.

Ungracefully compared to how elegantly smoke rising from the burning cigarette dances in the air.

Kamui observes it trying to find words poetic enough to match the smoke's beauty.

But his eyes choose to wander from the smoke's point of complete disappearance, down the curving ever changing pillar of smoke, over to the burning cylinder, then to the powerful fingers (where the physical memory of their acts not less than five or ten minutes ago sends shudders into each fiber of his body), over to the long and wide palm, to the muscular arm where he lazily traces bobbing biceps, then the broad shoulder, the neck, and finally, the face.

Often this journey was cut short as the cigarette hovered to Seishiro's lips.

Usually, that would snap Kamui back to himself; he would not let himself start watching Seishiro with such a manner after sex, never ever, ever!

But he did and the guilt started flowing back into his head.

He turned his eyes desperately elsewhere, looking for anything to watch but that man. He gazed out the window behind him.

A black spot moving quicker than what's humanly possible caught his eyes; it was sneaking across the balcony's bar, as swift as an animal.

The curtains were drawn lower and Kamui was only able to see a slit of the outside world through the window. The black spot moving so fast; what was it?

Was it Fuma landing on Seishiro's roof to spy on them! Or maybe he's here to claim Kamui back? Oh, please let it be that!

He didn't care if Fuma coming here means a lecture of fire and brimstone about how Kamui is his, or maybe of how this is not the way to fight against the DoE; Kamui wanted to finally confront Fuma.

He wouldn't mind running off towards the man in his current state, all naked and wet and dirty; _he just wanted to see Fuma already_!

Flapping the curtain up madly, Kamui's heart almost snapped in half when he saw the black patch on the wide stone banister was nothing but Seishiro's cat stalking an innocent pigeon perched a few meters from it.

Kamui sighed, exasperated, and turned to the careless man who sat beside him.

Despite the fact that when he raised the curtains forcefully he almost hit the back of the assassin's neck with it, Seishiro remained as he was; silent and ignoring Kamui like he always does after sex.

Seishiro would wander off to do whatever he did (even going out to hunt some if the time was right) or just stayed in bed and occupied himself with the room's television set, a book on the nightstand or the faxes he got that day (even if Kamui could have easily read them and gone off to warn whomever it was about to lose their life).

Ignoring Kamui until the boy would leave on his own was just another sadistic trick Seishiro played on Kamui to make him feel horrible and cheap and used and beg for more.

The black cat took a series of smooth short steps towards the ignorant bird, its tail's very tip shaking madly as a sign of what its owner plotted.

The cat's eyes remained focused on the bird, its whiskers drawn forward, its ears completely turned forward, even the little fur around its eyes and on its cheeks stood on end.

From time to time the cat stopped to sniff at the ground as if pretending he was not interested in the bird at all, but when his charade was over it homed in on the bird again.

The bird took a few waddling steps towards a curve in the banister so that if the cat jumped it now it would hurl itself to the twenty six floor abyss below.

"Your cat's trying to commit suicide…" Kamui tried to make his tone as careless and cynical as possible.

Seishiro put down the batch of faxes he was reviewing and turned around to scan the cat and the bird outside the window.

He sighed. Sliding the window open slowly, he popped his head out and hollered out to his pet, "Oi! Are you stupid or what!"

Kamui sniggered and covered his mouth.

He noted his heart skipped a beat when Seishiro's head turned just a little towards him as if to acknowledge his reaction.

Seishiro smiled as well when he withdrew himself back into the room, and even shared an amused stare with Kamui for a-fragment-of-a-fragment-of-a-fragment-of-a-second. Then he resumed his fax reading and ignored Kamui again.

The cat cringed at the sound of his master's voice obviously speaking ill of him (Kamui learnt cats can detect what you talk about them the hard way when he laughed at the cat and got a foot full of claws a few minutes later).

It turned its head to them, its ears flat to its head. Its eyes were irritated, its wounded ego obvious through its sneaky low profile behavior, as it leaped down from the banister and walked to the still open window Kamui left for it to enter through.

As it climbed through the open window and down to the bed with moves as soft and sleek as the silk covers, Kamui tried to run his hand along its back in comfort.

The cat ducked from under him.

Kamui tried to pet it once more and was answered by a sharp snap of the feline's head towards him, ears still irritated and pinprick angry pupils flaring, ready to bite.

Having learnt a few things about feline behavior, and this particular cat's behavior, Kamui quickly withdrew his hand and avoided being hurt.

The cat blinked at him, even more irritated at this second degrading miss. He growled.

Seishiro looked up from the fax and observed this battle of wills and fangs between his two toys. This would be interesting.

Suddenly filled with confidence, Kamui ran his hand from the cat's ears to its nose, lingering his palm on the cat's eyes.

He could feel the cat trembling with anger under his hand. He knew he was going to be hurt, but he didn't mind.

He felt the same tremble of anger whenever he'd talk to Subaru these days; he knew he might be spotted by Seishiro and knew he would be hurt as punishment later, but the idea only thrilled him.

The cat's vengeance was not late; he sent his front paws to draw Kamui's palm over and dragged it to his belly where its rear legs kicked at the palm.

Kamui suddenly realized that though the cat's front claws were drawn and scuffed his skin, they were half sheathed and not in complete battle mode. The rear legs kicking at him were not with their claws pulled out at all and the cat's bite was not as blood-draining as they once were.

Was it possible! Could the cat have grown to like him? To do this as a game and not as hateful fighting?

Suddenly dizzy with this surprise breaking of ice, Kamui withdrew his hand and placed it on the cat's face to fluster it once more.

This time vengeance was swift and angry; the cat lashed out its front paw and carved four lines of blood into Kamui's palm.

Kamui giggled and drew his wounded palm to his mouth. Licking the wounds, he smiled at the cat maliciously.

The cat glared up at the boy; its tail pounding the mattress so hard it made an overused spring deep in it creak.

Seishiro bettered his position on the bed and placed the faxes away from him completely. The boy was plotting something, which was worth watching, and the cat he so far considered as a lazy spoiled lump of fur and fat showed its war colors in full.

Kamui waved his hand before the cat, who tried to lash out and slap some more lines into the palm. But Kamui was quick and his instincts just as sharp as the animal's; whenever the cat lashed out at him he'd draw his hand away and deal a soft harmless slap to the silky paw. Soon, the cat began hissing and growling most unceremoniously at the insolent brat before him.

Kamui sniggered scornfully at the infuriated beast, "You're angry, eh? Angry are we? Well come and get me why won't you?" he threw his palm forward to place it on the cat's face once more, snapping the feline's patience and composure completely.

He withdrew his hand in time and avoided the cat's retaliation.

The cat drew back a bit, bristling and mad. Then he leaped forward at the tormenting hand.

Kamui drew his hand back once more, but this time he committed the sin of vanity; thinking of a new way to annoy the cat and prove his dominance over the so far condescending animal, he grabbed the cat by the nape of its neck.

For a moment, as the boy grabbed his cat and picked it off the mattress so smoothly, Seishiro was about to clap the boy for his brave success.

He was even going to expand today's session for another go or two (Kamui was, after all, naked before him and on all fours which was not something Seishiro could ignore so easily) due to this sudden burst of surprising behavior. Who would have thought the boy had such spunk? How delightful it is to watch!

But the cat had one last bloody trick up its sleeve. It was a fat cat, with skin layers so abundant it'd fold up like human fat. Now, as Kamui pulled at its skin, it used those so far useless layers to its advantage.

It curled up in the air and wrapped itself around Kamui like a glove, its nape still held between Kamui's fingers. It sunk its teeth in, the claws of all four paws ripping through skin and flesh. It kicked and it yanked and it scratched until Seishiro slapped it with a pillow at it and it stopped.

Kamui was beyond pain at this point since shock was the first thing such an injury gave him. He stared at his bloody shredded hand and blinked.

Powerful hands yanked him off the bed, covered his hand with a towel and dressed him. He blinked some more.

The powerful hands pushed him out of the apartment's door.

Kamui snapped out of his shock, "Hey! What are you doing!"

"You need to go to a hospital with that hand," the assassin answered, about to shut the door on the boy.

"Wait! Aren't you coming with me!"

Seishiro laughed so loud it echoed off the hallway's marble walls and hurt Kamui's ears.

"It's your cat that did this to me!"

Seishiro was closing the door.

"Maybe he's rabid!...Maybe he gave me some infection! You know those things, not me!" the door was shut and Kamui could clearly hear the other man say "stupid boy" beyond the door.

Kamui kicked the door, but it didn't help.

His hand chose this moment to recover the shock and start hurting.

Then, as Kamui scanned the two other doors in the hallway, it dawned on him.

He started screaming. Like crazy. Half the screams were natural pain induced cries.

Kamui added, "Sakurazuka-saaaaan!" to his yelps until he could hear people moving behind the two other doors whenever he stopped to take a deep breath.

Finally, Seishiro's door swung open and a powerful arm lashed forward to yank him in by the hairs.

Seishiro bandaged him in silence, his anger at the boy oozing through his skin. Kamui needed stitching and, since the ex-vet still had surgery equipment in his apartment, he won a full treatment of that.

Seishiro did not give him painkillers and 'mistakenly' stabbed him too deep when Kamui suggested their use.

But in the end Kamui was cared for, cleared and cleaned, stitched and even on painkillers.

He sat before Seishiro, who was now packing up his little first aid kit, and smirked. Forget the small black cat; he grabbed the tiger by the nape of his neck and brought him to submission.

"Are you angry?" he asked with voice dripping of honey and sarcasm.

Seishiro glared down at him, "You've been a very bad boy with that trick in the hallway."

Kamui batted his eyelashes and pouted sweetly.

He received a powerful right hook which knocked him breathless to the floor.

There was real fear making him tremble now when, through the hairs obscuring his eyes, he watched Seishiro crouch towards him with drawn fists.

For a while, the Sakurazukamori held him above the floor by his shirt's collar, glaring at him coldly as he looked for a way to punish the boy.

Then, he threw Kamui violently back to the floor and calmly walked towards his phone.

He ordered three male escorts, "I'd like them big, heavy, muscular, please, thank you. Oh, and make them BDSM masters," to come to his apartment, "for a bit of fun, tee hee".

The next morning Kamui limped into his residence's living room and nearly gave everyone a heart attack. He told them he saw a cat standing bewildered on the road, about to be hit by a car, so he jumped before the vehicle and grabbed the cat up into his arms, which won him the shredded right hand.

But the car was full of young yakuza brats and they were very angry at him for spoiling their joyride. So they beat him up a bit. But he beat them back and it was alright.

Sorata gave him an educating stare, Arashi wondered if they should worry about grudges from the yakuza in their status, Yuzuriha asked if the cat was alright.

Kamui spent the rest of the day sleeping, trying not to think about anything. Was he completely corrupted to the core to enjoy last night's full events? Was there anything left in him of that innocent little boy who wrote a hopeful letter to Fuma!

* * *

**Inner Circles Speaking to Each Other**

Karen's old high school friend led the same career life as her. When they were together in high school he was the first one to teach her how to put makeup on and act seductive. As soon as she knew anything about it, Karen gave her friend tips about blow jobs.

Together they decided, since both of them were such underdogs and banished souls, to become prostitutes in order to survive in society.

Between those golden days and 1999, Karen's friend became a great big, heavy, muscular man who came to be well known for his skills as a BDSM master.

The morning Kamui limped back to his home, Karen met her old friend over a cup of coffee. The friend told her about an interesting night at a certain voyeuristic Sakurazuka-san and his pet toy.

Karen frowned when she heard the 'Sakura' in Sakurazuka-san's name.

She thought. She pondered. She poked every grey cell in her brain to try and add another piece to a puzzle she didn't even know she had before her.

"Were you violent on the toy?"

"Of course we were darling! Oh I forgot, you're a complete vanilla," the old friend giggled, shattering whatever tough guy image the café costumers around them had of him.

"Yes but….I mean, you never did anything beyond what he wanted?"

"Ah, sure we did hon, we had a safety word or we wouldn't agree to do it."

"What was it?"

"The safety word! Darling, that's a bit too private….I'm not even supposed to have this conversation with you."

Karen straightened fiery eyes at her old friend's. When Karen's eyes are fiery, they're _fiery_.

"Okay! Okay! Quit the death glares already, will you? It was 'Subaru'."

"_Subaru was there_!"

"Huh? Who's Subaru? 'Subaru' was the safety word."

"……I see….and the voyeur, was he a tall dark handsome man with one real eye and the other a glass one?"

The old friend blinked, "Y-yeah….why? Oh, deary me, do you know this man!"

"_NO_!...but I might know the toy….." now she was so worried that the old friend felt compelled to tell her everything he remembered of last night's events.

Sadly, the old friend's memory of faces was never that good and the only details he could give his anxious friend were that the toy was a young man, slim, gorgeous and feminine.

Which would suit Subaru well.

But why was the safety word Subaru's own name! It doesn't make sense.

Just to make sure, Karen paid Subaru a surprise visit.

She found him sleeping in his day clothes, at 3PM, surrounded by a heavy cloud of trapped cigarette smoke.

"Subaru-san, I'm sorry to wake you up, but I need to know where you were last night."

Which is a stupid question because Subaru would be absolutely _delighted_ to tell her he spent the night getting gang-banged by a bunch of S&M male prostitutes while his Battle to the End of the World opposite and his family's arch enemy sat aside and watched.

"I was out on a job," he whispered instead, begging her to let go of his shoulder and allow him the sleep he so needed.

"Yeah, sure you were, Subaru-san," she placed her palm on his head like he was a child, "go back to sleep now, you must be exhausted after last night…."

Karen turned around and opened the door to leave.

She scared a petite young woman in typical Office Lady attire, holding a basket of fruits and a bottle of fine wine, who was about to knock on the door when Karen swung it open for her.

The two ladies blinked at each other, confused.

"Ah! So sorry to surprise you," the Office Lady bowed politely, flashing a perfect smile at her.

Karen hated Office Ladies.

"You must be Sumeragi-san's wife," the young woman chirped on.

The first thought to cross Karen's mind was that her age is hidden enough to make this woman think she's in the right age to be Subaru's wife, which flattered her greatly.

Then she realized the potential of this and struck a pose.

"Yes, I am his wife," she gave it an extra 'I don't like seeing chirpy young women on my husband's doorstep' tone to perfect her mask.

"Well, then maybe you can give this to him for me, he must be taking a rest after last night."

Karen blinked.

"Our coffee machines have completely stopped acting up now thanks to what he's done for us yesterday and this early morning."

Karen blinked again.

"Who would have thought a disappointed secretary could make such a mess with stifled feelings alone…." The Office Lady was babbling now. She realized it and stopped.

"Anyway, give him our heartfelt thanks and this humble gift from my boss. Thank you once more," she bowed lower and left.

Karen did not feel the weight of the gifts as she stood at the doorstep, staring forward, blinking.

It really wasn't Subaru at the Sakurazukamori's apartment last night. So who was it!

She'll talk it over with Seiichiro as soon as she manages to yank the man out of his work and his family long enough to have a good long conversation.

She hated to yank the man away from his family, but this was not something to think lightly of; who would the sadistic Sakurazukamori torment by making 'Subaru' the safety word?

(tbc)


	6. Yaoi

**Disclaimer: **I do not own X. I own Sei-Sei's cat.

**Author's Thanks 1: **To Whitesakura the co-writer, to Irresistibly Cruel the wise advisor.

Other many thanks, not a bit fewer than the those of the above, go to Trench Kamen for advising me about this story.

Also many thanks to my beta, Cait-hime-sama(-dono)

**Author's Thanks 2:** To Sloverpink from Nancy from Polaris from and LadyYienKing from Language and lime.

**Author's Notes: **This is the second edition, re-edited version of Equivocal since I've been feeling that the way the story was told the first time failed to hit the right spot in you readers and get the right result from you.

**Disclaimer 2: **This story is a non-humor satire, aimed to mock a certain way far too many writers focus on the yaoi quartet; Fuma-Kamui-Subaru-Seishiro.

**_Any OOC, over-the-top, non-canon and downright stupid behavior by the characters has its purposes and is NOT written out of the belief that this is how the characters are really or should really be._**

**_

* * *

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**Chapter 6 – Yaoi**

'Wrong.

'Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, _Wr-fucking-ong! _

'What's wrong! Everything's wrong!

'Everything spun out of place and grew fucking twisted and….and….and so fucking _wrong_!'

_'Well, what did you expect, you idiot? People are obviously going to die in this Battle of the Apocalypse, what made you think yours won't!'_

'But Saiki….Saiki, man, he wasn't even supposed to be fighting! I told him to stay put with the CEO guy and he didn't! What on earth made him go out of that room! What on earth made him think he could take _Fuma_ on!'

_'Ah, so now you're saying he deserves it?'_

Kamui stopped pacing in the black void of his dreamscape and glared upwards as if his inner voice came from there.

'Oh, just shut up already.

'And god damn it why did Fuma have to kill him like that! Is he turning psycho or something? What was up with putting Saiki's head on the banister like that? What was up with holding the body until I was there, then hurling it at me? God fuck it!'

Kamui tried kicking his leg free from the strange metal wires insistently wrapped around his ankle and shin. Since when does he dream of loose wires wrapped around him! He was naked, which was uncomfortable, and absolutely entangled by wires.

Kamui feared they might tighten and slice him into tiny flesh pieces like Kotori.

_'Ah! You remember her name! Well, at least you kept _some_ of your sanity.'_

"Aaaaaaaaarg!"

'Fuma didn't speak to me. Well, technically he did, but he didn't –speak- to me. He was full of the usual bullshit destiny talk and nothing more.

'Did it have anything to do with how I punched my arm through his shoulder? Was he mad at that? No, he looked pretty calm about it. ..

'Fuma pulled my arm out and placed it on his chest where his heart is.'

"Here is where you should aim."

'Bullshit! Like I want to kill you, Fuma, you aught to know me better by now.'

He_ doesn't know you love him, idiot, Seishiro does.' _

"Bastard! Shut up! I hate you!"

_'Do you have any idea how childish you sound?'_

"La la la, I can't hear you…"

'Fuma blew me onto a concrete slab and then did nothing. NOTHING! I mean what a great opportunity is that, huh? There were even some loose metal strips under me, Fuma could have easily bent them to bind me….but he didn't do anything….he just looked down at me and babbled something about carving my heart out and eating it.

'Fuma….what's wrong? Your eyes were so cold when you looked at me, so distant….'

_'Maybe because you're tainted, already deflowered. Couldn't wait for him, could you? Now, who'd want someone else's used toy?'_

"Shut up! I had no way of knowing it was Seishiro that first time!"

_'I suppose, but what about all the other times?'_

"I said I'm not listening to you and that's exactly what I'm doing right now! Piss off!"

There was someone else in the dreamscape. A woman. No…yes!

The kimono clad blond tilted his head sideways with deeply worried eyes. His frown was frantic.

"The strings, they're loose…."

'Definitely a man, such a deep voice, what's he doing here? Oh wait; it's Kakyou, isn't it?'

"What do you want?"

Kakyou flinched a bit and blinked quickly, as if trying to get a better perspective of Kamui.

"N-nothing, I-I….I wanted to tell you something…."

* * *

**Yama nashi**

Kamui opened his eyes.

Someone's holding his hand. Shit, it's Subaru.

"Subaru?"

The onmyouji seemed startled to be caught in the act of holding his leader's hand.

'Oh, right, when he first woke up after losing his eye I was there holding his hand. God, it feels like it was ages ago!'

"How do you feel, Kamui?" Subaru's voice is so calm and smooth. This time it's got some warmth in it, even though his eyes are showing that he's in one of those extreme dreamy states where he doesn't really think straight.

Kamui tried to sit up and felt like a jagged iron clamp shut on his chest.

"O-oh! What is that!" he managed to huff as Subaru gently pushed him back to the mattress.

"It's too early for you to get up; your ribs are still broken."

Kamui looked away from Subaru because he was crying and he really didn't feel like having an emotional conversation right now. Somehow, he felt one coming anyway because all the things in his chest were burbling and spinning and heating up and soon he'll have to spew them out or he'll die.

"Fuma…." His whimper came out crooked, "Fuma fought me again….he didn't even talk to me much…."

Subaru's palm squeezed Kamui's. His skin is always so soft and warm, like a mother's hand.

"He broke my ribs….he really hurt me this time…." Kamui couldn't talk anymore. The whimpers and sobs did a better job at conveying what he felt.

"Fuma….he knows….why else would he treat me so roughly?"

"Knows?" that smooth, calm voice shattered Kamui's talkative mood into a million splinters, "Knows about what?"

Wiping his eyes quickly, moving against his chest's complaints, Kamui turned his face back to Subaru's and plastered a smile on his lips.

"N-nothing….uh….m-my heart's true wish….that's all….yeah…."

Subaru didn't look convinced, but by now Kamui knew the man enough to realize that in his current state he'll forget about it in a minute or so.

A gentle rap on the door; Sorata and Arashi walked in. They got him out of Shinjuku, he aught to thank them or something. Work on his social skills.

That's right, Kamui needs to work on himself because the latest events pushed him off his course and he won't have it.

He's been neglecting his duty, lying to his best friend and co-workers, skipping school, skipping patrols and generally being a horny, mischievous brat.

Well, all that's going to change because he's not going to set his foot in that sin lair anymore, oh no, sir, not him! He's a better Kamui now because reality got knocked into his head some and he got the hint.

Fuma hates him for fucking around, so, to be a good boy and win Fuma's attention again, he's going to completely quit going to Seishiro's place and not even the most painful of morning erections will convince him otherwise.

_'We'll see…'_

For now he must focus on what's going on around him because he's been spacing out so much he didn't notice how Hinoto became one freaky bitch!

Damn, what was that face he saw? The grinning, evil smiling face? Was that Hinoto? For real?

"A face we must hide. I do not know who he had in mind." And wham! She left the dreamscape.

Strange. Kamui never heard Hinoto use such a deep, meaningful voice. Hers was always light and flowing like water, never so heavy and deep. She was hinting something, but what.

Oh no. She knows. Of course she does! She sees everything! She knows about him! Shit.

Then again, what could she do about it? If she wanted to do something she would have done it by now, wouldn't she?

Kamui looked out the window. It was a nice midsummer noon outside, the kind with sweet hot air and the heavy scent of flowers on the wind. The sunset will soon paint the sky in a cherry pink hue and everyone will feel like sighing about how beautiful the hour is.

Cherry pink.

Cherry.

No, he's a better Kamui now, he promised.

Kamui looked at the large doors to his room; must think of something else, anything.

Why on earth do they make doors so large in here? Why are all the rooms he sees so large, anyways? It's not a Japanese style, it's not even a modern style. It's some strange old European style and Kamui doesn't like it.

Kamui likes original Japanese things like koi fish and stone gardens and bonsai trees and samurais and geishas and sliding doors and tatami mattresses and seasonal food and star festivals and one finger socks and katanas and mount Fuji and sumo wrestling and wearing a different pair of slippers to the toilet and ramen food stands and paper walls and white day and cherry blossoms.

Not cherry blossoms.

'I missed the last cherry blossom season, I didn't know how to fully appreciate it at the time.

'Subaru didn't, he was like an extra nervous version of himself; always on the lookout, always giddy and jumpy and cranky. I wonder if anybody else noticed he was like that….'

'Cherry blossoms aren't all that bad. Actually they're really pretty with how they're either really white or really pink and they scatter everywhere like snow. The little petals fall from the flower and down they go.

'Down. Down. Down. They get caught in your hair and you need to brush it off or you don't have to really because it's pretty.'

Black hair cut short but elegantly, laden with pink cherry blossom petals. The pink leaves adorn the black haired head like a crown. The man with near-pink hair smiles softly, emptily. One eye faking a smile, the other stares forward with its blank whiteness.

He's thinking about Seishiro again. God damn it.

Kamui sat up in his bed. His chest didn't complain too much if he moved softly enough. All he has to do is avoid sudden movements and he's practically healed!

He leaped off the bed and looked for his original clothes. His old set of Clamp Campus uniforms was torn and dirty, a new set aught to be here somewhere.

Bingo!

Kamui pulled his clothes on, moving as softly as he could. Well, it's not like taking them off is going to be _his_ problem, hah.

His palm was already on the window's handle, about to push down and open it to leap into a bit of quick freedom.

_'Thought you were the new Kamui…'_

'When will you learn to shut up, huh?'

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Seishiro's door was locked. When he knocked there was no one there.

Damn it. He doesn't have much time before someone walks into his sickroom and finds him missing.

'Open the door you arrogant idiot, I know you're in there, I can hear you talking on the other end!'

Placing his palm before the lock, Kamui worked his powers and unlocked it. He grabbed the handle and pushed hard, preparing to storm in and bitch at Seishiro for trying to ignore him.

What could be more important that he can't open the door? If he's on the phone he could have just opened it while talking.

Maybe he has someone there with him! Oh that's just g-r-e-a-t! Kamui'd enjoy hissing at whoever it is until they run away and Seishiro will only have….

'Mommy…..'

Kamui gawked at the barrel of a gun placed so closely before his eyes. Kamui tried to blink but it was still there.

Its strange how he's been in mortal danger so many times, but only when he's looking into the barrel of a gun does he feel the very much vivid shock of his life about to end. It must have been the cold hard cruel grey of the barrel's metal, or that deep endless black void in the middle.

"M-mommy …." Kamui whimpered before he could stop himself. Tears came flooding in next and soon he'd be grabbing his head and running away screaming. Why on earth was there a black suit clad man with black sunglasses (who wasn't Seishiro) standing at Seishiro's door pointing a gun at him!

"Who is it? Oh, leave him alone please; he's got nothing to do with this." Seishiro's calm voice came from inside the apartment.

The barrel didn't move from Kamui's face, the man holding the gun didn't even flinch.

Seishiro turned his head to the leader of the government agents, "Tell your ape to put his gun down and let the boy in. He has no idea about this and will be dealt with as soon as you leave."

The barrel didn't move.

"Inagaki-san, this is pointless; the boy's memory will be dealt with after you leave, trust me."

The man holding the gun turned his head backwards a little to await his commander's words.

Kamui began snapping out of his shock and realized that he can rip this idiot into tiny shreds with his power if he wants to. No, he wanted to stay threatened because it made Seishiro talk about him, describe what he is and there was nothing Kamui wanted more at the moment than that.

"The boy's supposed to be my successor and you're risking his chances of wanting to do my job….He can easily turn on his heels and run off if he's standing at the doorway, at least let him in."

"Taka." An old man's voice came from the apartment and the agent with the gun moved away from Kamui's eyesight.

Seishiro's eyes were soft and cynical, "Come inside, boy, sit down."

Kamui obeyed, toeing off his shoes and walking to the sofa Seishiro sat on, plopping into it between Seishiro and the black cat.

He scrutinized the white haired man sitting on the respectful one seat sofa Seishiro usually liked to claim as his. He was leaning into the furniture like most arrogant leading manly figures do, tilting his head backwards a bit to look down at everyone. He was sporting a perfectly round large belly and a pair of sluggish, fat, hairy arms which seemed to offend the expensive black leather of the sofa so used to Seishiro's toned muscular elegant arms. His yukata was mundane; grey and black patterns of wind whirls with a touch of light blue.

Kamui tried to give the man a cancelling bored glare and found he was looking into a murderer's eyes. They were so superior, cold and educating that Kamui felt humiliated just by thinking he could bitch-glare at him and get away with it.

So, he looked away at the black cat instead. It was curled up into a ball in the very middle of the board cushion like it knew exactly at which spot the foam under the leather would be the softest.

Kamui ran his palm on the silky smooth fur and woke the cat up.

It jerked its head up and scrutinized Kamui's palm. The palm just healed from the cat's damage and Kamui didn't fear more damage to it one bit, after all, he had a good time getting Seishiro to treat him, didn't he?

The cat yawned, stretching its jaws as far apart as it could while exposing two curving rows of sharp white teeth.

Kamui placed his finger between the open jaws and giggled as the cat slammed his mouth closed and jerked away at the sensation of an unexpected object in his mouth. It spun its ears backwards, sharpening its yellow eyes' pupils into two angry slits.

Kamui placed his palm on the round fat hill of the cat's belly and folded rear leg.

The cat folded himself towards Kamui and slammed its paw on the leather where Kamui's palm was a moment ago. Its unsheathed claws got caught in the leather, forcing the cat to wiggle its paw and release itself in an undignified manner.

"What have I told you about playing with the cat, boy?" Seishiro's angry voice boomed behind Kamui with such a level of rebuke it frightened Kamui. "Never on the sofa! Are _you_ going to pay for leather to be replaced?"

Kamui turned around to face Seishiro and gaped at him. The other man's eyes were so angry and cruel and the mere presence of these emotions knocked Kamui into silent shock.

"Are you sure this boy will be your successor?" the older man butted into the conversation, "He seems, unfit for the part."

Seishiro responded to the remark with silence. Instead, he leaned forward to the coffee table and jotted his signature at the bottom of the contract laid there.

"Is there anything else you need of me?"

The old man grabbed the armrests of his sofa and pushed himself off it with some effort. "No. We'll be visiting you again next month."

Seishiro climbed to his feet too, as if he was a good host about to bid his guests goodbye. "Next month? You really are serious about this 1999 thing, aren't you?"

The old man, whose coat, hat and briefcase were brought from the rack by the door, turned away from the three bodyguard agents who attended to his belongings and gave Seishiro a cold sneering stare across his shoulder.

"This is a dangerous year, Sakurazuka-kun, you might die on us at any moment. We need to monitor you and make sure you're not dead so we'll know when to make a new Sakurazukamori to sign those contracts for us."

Without waiting for Seishiro to reply, the man motioned for the agent who pointed his gun at Kamui to open the door.

He seemed to be so fat and arrogant in his moves that he hovered out of the door like a bobbing cloud.

Kamui stared at Seishiro with his half a step taken towards the door and his clenched fists at the sides of his body. He was not sure how he should react to what he just saw. He didn't think it was his place to do it, as cheeky as he's supposed to be in this little game of power they play every time.

Ah, what the heck.

"Sakurazuka-_kun_?"

Seishiro narrowed the distance between them before Kamui could blink, his eyes were indifferent and cold. He smacked Kamui across his cheek which pushed him sideways onto the sofa.

Kamui's ribs complained. He had to wiggle gently to change position without too much pain. Bastard!

"That was for the holes in my leather sofa."

'Yeah, right.'

"Yes, sir, I'm sorry, sir."

Seishiro, who was staring off towards the kitchen as if about to go there and prepare himself something, turned his head slowly to look down at the boy lying on his sofa with heating lustful eyes. A smile tugged at the corner of the assassin's lips. It echoed, a complete duplication of Seishiro's smirk, on Kamui's eyes.

"Get up."

Kamui complied, peeling himself off the sofa softly while avoiding too much use of his arms. When he used his arm muscles too much his ribs sent painful stabs deep into his chest.

Seishiro ran his eyes over the boy from top to bottom, the pleased smirk spreading on his lips. He bent to the coffee table and reached for the stereo system remote.

The music he played was cold and electronic, the bases so deeply sounded they felt like thumps in Kamui's chest.

Unbuttoning Kamui's shirt, Seishiro's hand dropped away to his side like a dead limb. The assassin's eyes grew cold and hard again.

"You're injured?"

Kamui frowned a bit, a nagging suspicion tugging at his mind, "Yeah, but it's nothing, just a small flesh wound…"

Seishiro turned away from him and walked to the kitchen, "Not interested. Go home boy, I won't be playing with you today."

"What! Why!"

"You're injured," Seishiro's voice was bored and careless, "Not fit. You won't be able to do your best and you'll become a nuisance. Go home and come back when there's nothing broken in you."

Kamui was so struck he was unable to talk for a few minutes. All he did was lean forward a bit, clench his fists backwards and keep his mouth open in case something smart would come out of it.

"B-but….I'm fine! I can play, come on."

Seishiro was brewing himself a cup of coffee. He threw a bored glance at Kamui across his shoulder, "Not interested. Go home before I throw you out."

"_Throw me out!_ You….why….how….you wouldn't dare!"

"You don't want to try me, boy. Go away, you're becoming an eyesore."

Kamui stomped his foot and growled loudly. "God, why are you being such a prick all of a sudden?"

Placing his mug on the kitchen table, Seishiro poured milk into it while throwing another cancelling glance at Kamui.

"You're damaged goods, boy, now get lost."

Kamui shot out of the apartment three seconds later. He slammed the door behind him and cursed so much both in the apartment and on his way out of its building that he made the tenant he met on his way flush.

He reached the street and stopped as if shocked at the sight of life outside the apartment. He was not used to getting out of here in daytime and the sight of the still bright sky struck him as odd. A dizzy sensation of being disorientated hit him. Kamui bit his lip.

He shot to the air, hopping from one building to the next while leaving a trail of free flowing tears behind him.

"Damaged goods. An eyesore. You'll become a nuisance. Not interested."

'God. Damn. Bastard. I hate him!'

Kamui crashed on the nearest rooftop and crouched into a ball. His ribs' complaints were beyond his care, though he could taste blood in his mouth by now.

Why was Seishiro being such a prick and why _on earth_ does he care so much! It's not like he won't be able to get his piece of fun again once he's healed.

It's just the way Seishiro treated him, so coldheartedly and emotionless. Did he really not expect it from the man who did all those horrible things to Subaru?

Kamui raised his head and slowly climbed back to his feet. He let his feet wander aimlessly on the rooftop, taking him mindlessly around. Forward, to the edge of the building from where he could observe Ebisu Garden Place.

The train station below where he could see Fuma walking around with a can of iced tea which he placed by a trash bin.

_Fuma!_

_

* * *

_

**Ochi nashi**

"Fuma! Fuma! Fuma!" Kamui leaped down to the Garden's floor and ran up to the teen.

Fuma seemed to be taken aback by Kamui's presence and was staring at the boy as if he had just woken up and was still blinking away a dreamscape's last cobs.

Oh, wasn't Fuma the handsomest when dressed so casually? And how fitting are those glasses, though he didn't have the chance to tell him a few days ago when he first saw them on Fuma? The casual loose shirt and jacket, so befitting for his broad muscular body.

Kamui ran up to the bigger man and hardly stopped himself from crushing into him.

He wrapped his arms around Fuma's chest and rested his head tightly on the hard chest, snuggling up to the man as if they were long lost brothers.

"Fuma! I found you! Oh, Fuma, we need to talk so badly."

The Dragon of Earth stared down at Kamui and reached for his arms to try and pull the teen away.

Kamui shrugged the hands off and placed his palms on Fuma's chest, looking up into the dark red eyes with childish pleading innocence.

"I need to talk to you, Fuma, I know you know about what I've been doing lately, but I need to talk to you about it."

The Dragon tried to motion for him to stop, but Kamui didn't feel like listening right now, he had to spill it all out _now_ or he'd explode.

"I sent this letter to you, really, to you, because I wanted you to read it and come to me, but that bastard Seishiro, whom I hate most of all in all the whole wide world, well, he read it and then _he_ came and not you,"

The Dragon began edging the both of them to a nearby gent's room. All this while Kamui wouldn't stop talking.

"And I was blindfolded and bound and I couldn't know it wasn't you and then he did that and I didn't know it wasn't you, I thought it was you, really, I did, please forgive me. Oh, Fuma, can you forgive me? Please, please, please, please."

The Dragon did not answer him. Instead, he looked down at Kamui with icy, cold, expressionless eyes.

Kamui cringed and clung to Fuma's shirt so hard he heard the collar's seams tear a bit, "I know I've seen him again since then, but….but…well…" he looked away, tears streaming down his cheeks, "I-I thought it could be good practice to be with him a little bit and gain some knowledge and….uh….and…."

By then the Dragon stopped trying to shrug Kamui off and simply stood there limply, staring down at Kamui.

Kamui looked up at Fuma and scanned the blank red eyes staring back at him. What was he thinking? What was he plotting? Is he not speaking to convey that he's angry at him and nothing he'll say can change that? Is he not saying anything to hint that it's okay and there's no need for any more explanations?

They were alone in the gent's room; just them, the open five stalls, the toilet seats, the five sink and the mirror.

But of course! How stupid of him not to have realized it earlier! Why would Fuma drag him to the gent's room if not to get some privacy? They could have had this chat outside and easily pass as a couple arguing, nothing too secret was expressed so they could have done this publicly. But Fuma wanted privacy, what's privacy needed for if not for a bit of intimate exchange?

A large childish grin spread on Kamui's face and the flooding tears became warm. He clenched Fuma's shirt once again, after letting it go a bit in the heat of his emotional storm, and dragged Fuma backwards into the second cabin in the row.

He spun around, feeling how limp and unresisting Fuma's boy is, and locked the door behind them.

He pushed Fuma onto the toilet seat and straddled the bigger teen with a bit of a thrust to his pelvis.

Grabbing Fuma's face in his palms and tilting it backwards, Kamui glued his lips to Fuma's. He closed his eyes so as not to see the other man's still open ones, so blank and ever observing.

He thrust his tongue deep into Fuma's mouth and flicked it around using every manoeuvre he learned and invented, every movement his body's great needs and wishes ordered him to perform.

'Look! Look! I'm kissing Fuma! I'm holding Fuma! We're together! We're doing it! Look!

_'….'_

Fuma did not kiss back, though he kept his mouth open and when Kamui withdrew to shower tiny kisses on his lips he closed his mouth. When Kamui ran his tongue on the soft thin lower lip, Fuma opened his mouth just a bit and when Kamui clung to him tighter to invade his mouth again, he opened it a bit more.

Fuma was cooperating with him if not a bit stiffly. Well of course he would, there were still tensions between them because of what he had done, but these tensions can be slowly, lovingly, eased out.

Kamui let go of Fuma's head and wrapped his arms around that broad back he longed for so much in long nights and agonising boring afternoons. He slid his palms under Fuma's shirt, feeling up the tight skin covering well developed muscles.

His fingers glided across powerful shoulders and stealthy arms, over sturdy chest and ribs, Fuma was absolutely covered in lovely well formed muscles. Kamui reeled at the thought of kissing each and every one of them.

Seishiro had a very similar physique, only his included his head, where his snarling teasing mouth was and that cold, cruel eye.

Kamui didn't want to think about Seishiro now and he didn't want to draw comparisons. Fuma was Fuma, Seishiro was a bastard.

Encouraged by that thought, Kamui charged onto Fuma's body with a full energy blast. He kissed his twin star's mouth more passionately, caressed his body more feverishly, sought out every spot and patch of skin he failed to examine earlier.

The Dragon simply sat there and let the boy do as he wished until he'd finally come to realise.

Come to realise what?

That he wasn't hard. As simple as that.

Fuma was simply unresponsive; he just sat there like a limp doll and refused to make any voluntary movements. He flinched a little bit when Kamui caressed his sides but that was only involuntarily because he was being tickled a bit, but otherwise he showed not a single sign of interest.

Kamui drew away from Fuma, eyes ablaze, dilated, and stopped to recalculate.

Fuma can't be unresponsive, look at all the lovely things he's doing to him!

Hmm, perhaps it's not enough. A half crazed grin itched at the edge of Kamui's lips.

His hands trembled as he unbuttoned and unzipped Fuma's jeans.

The Dragon didn't even look down, instead he was busy observing Kamui as the boy fumbled with his boxers and uncovered his manhood.

He noted the boy's eyes were particularly desperate when as his palm worked on the limp soft penis.

It was annoying, really, whenever his palm was at its base the tip would flop to the side reluctantly, like a child who shrugs sideways in insistent resistance. Kamui decided he'd focus on the sensitive tip, but it kept folding into itself and slipping out.

Ah, perhaps he doesn't like the way his hand isn't lubricated. Damn it, where can he get a lubricant! It's not really a problem because Kamui's used to rough penetration, it is a problem, though, because that must feel uncomfortable for Fuma at the moment and he can't think of penetration if Fuma isn't even hard!

Licking his palm enthusiastically, Kamui noted his mouth was particularly dry today. Nevertheless he managed a nice coat of saliva and resumed his earlier assignment.

Still no response. Fuma's blank stare was beginning to grate on Kamui's nerves.

No, there's nothing wrong, it's alright because at least they're together now and doing what they're currently doing and surely Fuma wouldn't let him get this far if he was still angry at him, right?

Perhaps a different, more pleasurable approach is required. Kamui slid off his friend's lap and kneeled before him on the dim light blue tiled floor.

He looked up at Fuma giving him the best seductive look he could muster with his weary nerves, and placed his palms on Fuma's knees to hint to the other man that he should open his legs.

The Dragon did not move. He sat there with his shirt half pulled up his lovely tanned, well carved stomach, his pants undone and his penis laying limply towards his inner left thigh.

He waited for the boy to finally get it.

Kamui refused to get it. Instead, he pulled Fuma's flaccid legs apart and crawled forward a bit, wrapping his fingers around Fuma's resistant manhood.

Oral sex proved to be no more effective than manual assistance no matter how much Kamui sucked, licked or ran his fingers deeper into Fuma's boxers to gently caress his testicles. Nothing worked. Limp, limp, limp.

Despairing finally, Kamui rested his forehead on Fuma's right thigh, his hand still holding the soft limb, and whimpered.

"W-w-why don't you do anything, Fuma?" he was shocked at the misery of his own voice, how lowly and wretched it came out, "Why won't you respond? Are you that angry at me?"

He looked up into Fuma's face, crying uncontrollably again, "Are you disgusted by me? Do you not find me attractive? Why Fuma? Why?" emotions clamped on his windpipe until he had to cough to breath.

No, no, please, anything but those cold emotionless orbs staring at him. Why won't he speak to him? Kamui wrapped his arms desperately around Fuma's leg, burying his face in the rough jeans, shaking it a bit from time to time.

Arms grabbed him and pulled him to his feet. Oh good! Will he be hugged now? Will Fuma finally tell him he forgives him, that he did all that just to teach him a lesson? Did he wait until Kamui was a complete apologetic wreck and only then would he earn his love?

The Dragon leaned Kamui softly against the cabinet door and rearranged his clothes. Then he unlocked the door and swung it open, nearly tumbling Kamui backwards onto the floor. He pulled at the boy's arm and began dragging him out of the gent's.

Oh, no he won't! This is going to be solved, right here, right now!

Kamui hooked his fingers on the nearest silver faucet, grabbing Fuma's arm back. His eyes were blazing again, lit by a different ambition.

The Dragon turned to look at the teen, his voice coming out cool and deep, "It's over, Kamui, there's nothing more to try and fight for."

"Bullshit!" Kamui gave the arm in his grip another yank. Fuma's shoes made a plasticy screech on the floor, "We're not leaving here until you'll explain to me what on earth just happened! I want answers, why….what…." it's hard to be stubborn when your loved one's eyes look at you so heartlessly cruelly, "Why won't you cooperate? Don't you love me anymore?"

The Dragon sighed and gave Kamui one finally yank which got both the boy and the faucet out of the gent's. He spun Kamui around and hurled him out to the open air. If Kamui hadn't tripped and stumbled he would have been knocked to the ground.

"I never loved you, Kamui, not me, the Dragons of Earth's Kamui. Whatever the boy Fuma felt for you had been wiped out when you made your choice of destiny."

Kamui was grabbing at his hair and shaking his head so feverishly he was drawing attention, a fact that went unnoticed when such cutting words beat at his ears.

"You ask why I won't participate in sexual activity with you, Kamui. It is because sexual activity is irrelevant. It is irrelevant to what I am and what the earth wishes of me." Strings of energy began swirling out of his limbs, shooting off to four empty tea cans he placed around the Garden Place.

"No….no….you love me….you loved me…..I love you…."

"I do not love you, Kamui, there is no room for such things as love in me, only for the earth's cries for revenge over its human children which hurt and cut at her so."

The four cans began vibrating, creating a metallic rattle as they danced on the marble floor. No one noticed them; they were far too small a matter in comparison to the lovely day outside and the sudden gay teen drama playing out under the branch shaped metal decoration hung from the Garden Place's arched roof.

Kamui's knees betrayed him, giving under him shakily. He fell to his knees on the hard marble floor from where he could stare up at the tear blurred Fuma and whimper some more like the dribbling condemned waif that he was.

"So why did you drag me to the toilets? Why did you let me do all those things to you? Oh, Fuma, you're so cruel…"

The earth began to rumble under them as four cans exploded. The Kekkai at Ebisu was cracking and soon this lovely peaceful Garden Place will be nothing but rubble and wreckage.

People flooded out of the station in large panicking masses, pushing and shoving at each other wildly, grabbing at their dearest and yanking them with all they had out of the disaster, like stampeding cattle.

The branch shaped metal decoration's wires were cut by a piece of the roof's broken glass. It landed into the decorative indoor flowerbed creating an explosion of earth, torn plants and tiny rocks all around it. The sheer force of its metal weight and the might of its fall cracked the floor around the flowerbed until the branch became stabbed halfway into the ground.

The Dragon observed his action's results with a calm air of satisfaction. Kamui didn't even try to fight him. He didn't seem to be realizing what was happening here at all. He was so sunk in his little pit of bodily needs and pointless emotions.

He walked up to the boy and kneeled by him, cupping his chin gently. He let his eyes soften in hope of it helping to break the boy out of his little selfish bubble.

"You had a wish, when you were leaping away from the Sakurazukamori's apartment this afternoon; your wish was to clear your heart of the sudden confusion it was caught by. You wanted to know if you should stick to your obsession with me or if you should focus your energies on your sudden emotional interest which grew from your recent actions with the Sakurazukamori.

"You wished to know which of us two deserved your full attention, me or the Sakurazukamori harbinger. I did not reject you, Kamui, I merely noted for you about how your energies are wasted on me."

He raised himself to stand up again when Kamui grabbed his shirt as powerfully as before.

"And y-you," sob, "y-you d-d-don't c-care if…if…if…." Hiccup, "if I just s-stay with S-Sei-ei-eishir-o! Y-y-you wo-wouldn't m-mind?"

"Such actions on your behalf are none of my concern, Kamui, I simply do not care." he ripped at his shirt, leaving Kamui with the shred of his shirt, and leaped away from the crumbling mess.

Kamui's hand shook as he stared at the limp piece of white cloth between his fingers. He had been crying for such a long time now that he was completely blunt to the wet sensation on his face.

Fuma said he didn't care if he was with Seishiro. Fuma said he doesn't love him and even if he once felt it, it was now gone. Fuma said it's irrelevant to him, love, sex, him, he just wanted to destroy things.

Slowly observing the imploding building with dreamy eyes, Kamui decided it was better to stay here and be buried under the rubble. There was nothing more he wished for in life, nothing to fight for, nothing to hope for, nothing to bother and get up in the morning for.

A loose piece of glass from the roof landed on his head horizontally, crushing into tiny particles which became imbedded in his wild hair like a thousand diamonds. It merely made his head bow a little, which didn't matter. He wished the next piece of glass would fall vertically so that it would cut his head off.

His wish was not granted fully; instead of glass, a piece of concrete about half the size of his fist knocked him unconscious.

'Great,' he thought, a moment within the darkness which gnarled at the frames of his vision closing down on him, 'at least I won't be aware of the pain when this shit world comes crashing down on me.'

* * *

**Imi nashi**

Why on earth is he doing this!

It's not like cares about the boy, excellent sex toy or no excellent sex toy, so why save him from the wreckage?

Seishiro didn't know this and preferred to avoid that question as he leaped from one rooftop to the next on his way from Ebisu towards Clamp Campus with the unconscious Dragon of Heaven's Kamui in his arms.

The boy's hair blew in the wind like a shiny black flame, shaking off the particles of glass caught between its bangs. Seishiro looked down at the smooth sleeping face, so beautiful and innocent.

Beautiful young boy. Helpless beautiful young boy, helpless beautiful young boy with shiny unblemished innocence to taint in abundance. The type was always his weakness, as sure as his own time of death.

The habit started in high school, back at Clamp Campus when he practiced his Sakurazukamori killing skills on the soft bodies of first graders and first year middle school kids he freshly raped.

He loved the large frightened eyes, the clouded orbs so confused and miserable. He loved it when they resisted him and when they gave into him. He loved it when they screamed "No" or "Mommy" or "Stop".

He loved it when they picked up his signals and ran away, he loved it even more when they were ahead of their age and cooperated with him. He loved the latter the most because they're the ones who looked betrayed the most when he killed them.

Subaru, sweet nine year old Subaru, in his immaculate white shikifuku, so crisp and soft and plump and fragile to touch. Subaru was the first time Seishiro tested himself to see how much he could delay the pleasure of slowly breaking the boy.

He wanted to give the tiny Sumeragi the same treatment as the other boys, but discovered that by delaying his satisfaction, the pleasure he'd derive from it would only grow. He managed to delay it until Subaru was sixteen, just as fresh, just as innocent and just as beautiful, and then for another year. All that time he sat aside and licked his lips, already tasting the sweet nectar of the boy's torment.

These days Subaru was too thin for him, too ashen by pain and torment and too cracked.

Wait? He thought that up just now because the boy in his arms was far better? No, nothing is better than Subaru, as dim and weary as the Sumeragi grew to be.

Unlike Kamui, Subaru was a long term project, something that took too long to work on to be dumped like that because of the sudden appearance of a shiny new boy-toy in the neighbourhood. He can crush this boy any moment and still the pleasure won't be the same as when he'll punch the last nail into the coffin of Subaru's sanity.

The plan he had of his demise, of Subaru's demise, will remain unchanged no matter how many times he'll fuck this kid.

So why did he just save the boy from certain death? Seishiro didn't know.

He's not quaking, no, he's not beginning to doubt the plan he etched for Subaru and for himself. No, he's not tempted to dump Subaru and work on making this boy his real successor.

Though, god knows the boy has it in him to be a cold blooded murder; the way his mind can be completely consumed by a single idea and goal, the way it makes him blind to anything else, the way he can come ripping through every code of morality the world tries to shackle him with to grab what he wants.

Yes, Kamui has the passion in him to become emotionless and cruel. He has great power in him; enough to become one of the best Sakurazukamoris ever created during history.

Seishiro is sure that when they get down to it, Kamui will have absolutely no problem comprehending the need to kill one Sakurazukamori for the sake of a new one born. He was certain Kamui will not be the type to whimper and sob and cling to his living loved one, that he will have no trouble understanding how brilliant it is to die by the hand of the one you love.

Would he love Kamui when he dies and gives away his title? No.

Does he love Subaru enough to die by him? Seishiro doesn't know.

All he knows is how deeply it will cut Subaru to kill the man he loves with his own hands when his wish is the complete opposite.

It will cut Subaru deeply to see Kamui as his successor and to discover what had been going on between them, but will it be that deeply? Will it scar him as much as his original plan would?

No, Seishiro didn't want to think about it. It meant too many changes of plan and too many new risks rising. Leaving the Sakura in the unsure hands of a half demented Subaru (and he will be half demented by then) troubled Seishiro enough as it is.

What would Subaru grow to be if he was betrayed so by Kamui replacing him? Surely he might go astray enough to fully burn away any love he once had for him. Subaru might become fully vengeful and that would become a problem for the young Sakurazukamori Kamui.

If so, then all hell might break loose and he won't be there to set things straight. Kamui will probably kill Subaru to survive and that's simply unacceptable for Seishiro. Either that or Subaru will kill Kamui and become the next Sakurazukamori according to plan.

Only it won't be according to plan, will it? Because Subaru will not see his new title as a kind of twisted legacy from him, he'll see it as a nuisance he did not plan to take on.

If he dies by Subaru's hand, the Sakurazukamori title will be perceived as a gift, as something to cling to as the last trace of his beloved Seishiro-san.

If it is be Kamui, who stabbed Subaru in the back, who gives Subaru the Sakura title the onmyouji will surely discard it and end the long lineage.

Seishiro will be dead and out of the action, helpless to turn it to the direction he plotted. No, Kamui replacing Subaru will simply not fit. End of doubts, end of discussion.

So why is he _still_ holding the boy and carrying him toward Clamp Campus!

Drop him already, Sakurabaka, drop him and end this ridiculous, pointless relationship.

Kamui's hair flared upwards as he descended lower into the city. They were at such altitude that when he hits the ground he will surely explode with the sheer might of his fall.

It'd be a shame; such a perfectly beautiful body splattered on the ground. Seishiro liked his boys to be perfect and complete in their death save for the inevitable hole in the chest and scattered random cuts or bites he inflicted on them while they were still breathing. He liked to linger on by their bodies and observe the dead face, suddenly peaceful as if in sleep.

But that doesn't matter because Kamui was out of reach by now, past the line of buildings and nearing the fatal ground more and more with each passing second.

His Kamui will be upset as well. After all, the boy's death belongs to him. He will simply not hear the end of it.

Shit.

God he hates doing this.

A group of high school girls out for a bit of ice-cream before going back home were nearly frightened out of their wits when they noted the frail body of a boy coming closer and closer to them from above, about to crush them.

They were completely scared into scattering away from the spot with screams of panic and alarm when a huge black falcon zoomed towards them and snatched the boy by the edge of his shirt and at the waistband of his school uniform, plucking him from sure death.

Kamui woke for a few minutes to note the large beastly bird and smiled sweetly before passing out again.

The shiki finished its master's course to Clamp Campus.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When Kamui opened his eyes he saw the canopy of his Clamp Campus hospital bed. The exact same vision he found when he opened his eyes after the last coma.

Strange, was it all a dream? Seishiro cruelly dismissing him? The fat ugly man in his apartment? Fuma refusing him? The earthquake at Ebisu? Seishiro's shiki saving him?

Seishiro's shiki saving him!

No, that doesn't make sense, does it? Seishiro dismissed him, said he didn't want him, said he's not interested. So why did he save him?

_'Now stop! Stop right there, you're not going to suck yourself into another pointless emotional whirlpool again, not if I have anything to do with it!'_

Kamui was by now too weary to fight the voice. He let it speak as he stared mindlessly out the window from which he left into hell's greatest confusion. How long has it been since he was returned anyway?

_'That doesn't matter now; listen to me for a minute, will you?'_

Sigh, 'What do you want?'

_'Sakurazuka Seishiro is a cold hearted bastard, are you fully aware of it?'_

'I knew it from the moment Subaru told me what he'd done to him, yeah, what else is new?'

_'You're not going to take this sudden reach for assistance by him as any sign of emotions from that creep, do you understand?'_

'Hey, he did save me when he didn't have to, why would he….'

'_**Because you're his sex toy**, that's why! Get it into your thick skull already!'_

'I don't know….'

_'**He-doesn't-love-you!**'_

Kamui was growing sleepy. He snuggled deeper into his duvet and cringed at his still aching ribs. 'Hmn, sure, fine, whatever.'

_'Kamui! Listen to the voice of reason for _once _in your life!'_

'Currently the voice of reason is keeping me awake, thus keeping me from properly having a good rest which my dire health is in great need of.'

_'You damn ungrateful brat, listen to me, god damn it!'_

'Goodnight.'

"Kamui!"

Kamui snapped his eyes open, jerking his head off the pillow with fear tainted surprise.

Karen and Seiichiro were standing at the door, staring at him with the kind of look Kamui preferred to never see in the eyes of adults. The 'We know you did it now all we need is a confession' look Kamui met one time too many during the more troublesome times of his early youth.

Kamui gave them a weary, dramatic, angst ridden stare.

Bull's-eye, they walked up to his bed with far softer looks, far smoother movements, changing their slight suspicious behavior into mere harmless parental worry.

They're his loving Seals again, his ignorant lambs.

Karen sat on the bed by his feet, placing a gentle palm by his leg. Seiichiro straightened his glasses and shoved his hands into his pockets awkwardly. Disarmed, harmless, perfect.

"Kamui," Karen's smile was that of a school counselor about to ask the school bully if he's experiencing troubles at home, "about what happened three days ago…."

Kamui gaped at her, "W-was that three days ago! And I've been sleeping all this time?"

"Yes, you had a lot to rest from, Kamui." Seiichiro took a small step closer to the bed.

"Look, Kamui, I know how much you feel obliged to do this year and I really don't know what the other Seals expect of you, or tell you, or hint at you, but…" Karen jerked her head sideways, anger bursting like flame in here deep pink eyes again.

Uh-oh, what now?

Seiichiro's face gravened as well, his eyes sharpening. They seemed to have snuck into his room while Arashi and Sorata weren't on the lookout to have this conversation with him. Why would they want the other Seals not to hear it? What do they, the adults, have to talk to him about, but things the other Seals, the 'kids', might not already know about.

It has to be Seishiro; it has to be what happened at Ebisu. He was a complete idiot for not thinking of the possibility that one of them might have been around to see something, anything that might have tipped them off to what he was working so hard to hide from them.

"You see, you sneaking out of your sickroom before you even had the chance to properly heal…" Karen's voice was heating up as well, her angered eyes turning to him.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit! Why must everything come tumbling down on him in one go!

"…And going out every evening on patrols, alone…"

Fuck! Fu-ck!

"You simply can't keep working yourself out like that! Look at what you've gotten yourself into the last two times, Kamui, you're killing yourself!"

…….

What?

Seiichiro laid a calming hand on Karen's shoulder, his eyes so fatherly and soft it hurt Kamui to look at them. "All we're saying is that we're _seven_ Dragons of Heaven for a reason. The reason is that we're that many so that we can help each other out."

Kamui blinked at them and felt his eyes tearing again. He was so relieved that he felt a sudden gush of love for them. If he leaps at them, to hug them in thanks for being so blissfully ignorant, what will they do?

"Just….stop going out alone like that, Kamui, we know it's hard for you, but….working yourself so, it's just too much." Karen's eyes wrapped loving arms around the boy on the bed, "Please, give yourself some slack and rest for a while, you've done so much already."

Wiping at his eyes, Kamui nodded, trying to smile through his trembling lower lip and tears. "Alright. I won't go out on patrols late at night anymore."

"You won't?" Seiichiro sounded surprised, "Do you promise?"

Kamui nodded. "Don't worry, that's all over now I've had enough of…uh…I'm…I'm just too tired that's all…." Shit, nearly stumbled there, idiot.

"And you will call us next time you get into a fight with Fuma over a Kekkai? You wouldn't face it alone like you did in Shibuya and Shinjuku?"

"I promise. Thank you, Karen-san, Aoki-san."

"A-alright Kamui…." Karen exchanged surprised stares with Seiichiro and got up, about to leave.

Kamui followed them with his eyes, waiting for them to leave so he can finally catch his nap. This is a dangerous situation and he's definitely not fit to lie so blatantly in his condition.

Just before they left, Seiichiro turned to Kamui, poking his head through the gap between the doors.

"By the way, Kamui," he said with a strange light in his eyes, "we still haven't found Yuzuriha-chan." He closed the door behind him.

Kamui gaped at the closed doors. Yuzuriha? She was missing? Fuck, right! Since Shinjuku.

Shit, how could he forget that! What the fuck's been wrong with him!

_'Hormones, that's what. And by the way, they are _so _onto you.'_

'Doesn't matter now because I'm going to quit meeting that bastard, so that's okay. I'm a good boy now, no running off to night patrols and no showdowns alone with Fuma. Yup, I'm a new Kamui.'

_'Tssk, that's what you said last time…'_

'Goodnight.'

"Well, that went easier than planned. I was absolutely sure he'd try to argue with us about wanting to find Fuma alone…"

Seiichiro didn't answer Karen; instead he leaned on the doors to his leader's sickroom and frowned.

"Karen-san….there's something we're missing here…"

The fire master turned around to look at the man. "Missing something? What do you mean?"

"Something's going on with Kamui and it's got nothing to do with the Battle. Something's distracting him."

Karen frowned, looking down at the floor.

'Subaru' for a safe word. It twinkled in her mind for a moment before she shrugged it off. What's that got to do with anything! What's Kamui to do with it! Nothing. It's ridiculous to even think about it.

Kamui's far too innocent to even know what a safe word is.

No, she'll dismiss it. There must be another Subaru in this city. Yeah, it's not that much of an uncommon name and even if it was this city contains so many people it's only logical it'd contain at least one more Subaru than the Sumeragi she knows.

"What do you think distracts Kamui, Karen-san?" Seiichiro's voice tore her out of her thoughts.

She mouthed a bit before shaking her head gently and shrugging, "Oh, I don't know. You have to remember that his life isn't as easy as ours; anything could distract him, from his family being eliminated systematically before his eyes to his friends meeting the same fate. Hell, even school can be distracting enough for a boy his age and that's completely understandable.

"We really aught to not judge him for phasing out a bit, after all, we can never even begin to imagine the pain he's going through."

"True, true. Oh, you're right, Karen-san; I'm just being a big goofy worrywart. Come, you must be late for work."

Karen shot a lightheaded giggle into the grim air of the hospital ward, hurrying to cover her mouth politely. "You're such a gentleman, Aoki-san, come, let's leave the boy alone."

Seiichiro didn't really leave Kamui alone. Inside, he was slowly analyzing the blank look he caught in Kamui's eyes as he told him about Yuzuriha.

It'll take him time to work out that not only was Kamui completely ignorant about what happened to his comrade, but that he also _didn't care_.

He'll get to it soon.

(tbc)


	7. Violator

**Disclaimer: **I do not own X. I own Sei-Sei's cat.

**Author's Thanks 1: **To Whitesakura the co-writer, to Irresistibly Cruel the wise advisor. Other many thanks, not a bit fewer than those of the above, go to Trench Kamen for advising me about this story.

Also many thanks to my beta, Cait-hime-sama(-dono).

Also, many thanks to my boyfriend for advising me about Sei's car, how it could have gotten a technical problem and generally endured my nagging fretting I'm-a-female-and-knows-shit-about-cars presence during the conversation we had XD.

**Author's Thanks 2:** To Tintangel from (More smut you asked, more smut you got!), To my reviewers whose words I can't read because AFF are fucked at the moment XD.

**Author's Notes: **This is the second edition, re-edited version of Equivocal since I've been feeling that the way the story was told the first time failed to hit the right spot in you readers and get the right result from you.

**Disclaimer 2: **This story is a non-humor satire, aimed to mock a certain way far too many writers focus on the yaoi quartet: Fuma-Kamui-Subaru-Seishiro.

_**Any OOC, over-the-top, non-canon and downright stupid behavior by the characters has its purposes and is NOT written out of the belief that this is how the characters are really or should really be.**_

I have absolutely no excuse good enough to come up with to explain why I haven't updated in so long. I worked a lot and got a boyfriend, but mostly I've been lazy. I apologize; I hope this piece of Suby/K will be enough of compensation.

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Violator**

**Clean**

The bed sheets are twisted. Kamui stirs when the blanket wrapped around his lower torso is pulled taut.

Seishiro is moving on the other side of the divan, turning over to reach for a pack of cigarettes on a side table.

The cotton coils around Kamui's thigh, threatening to cut off blood flow when the Sakurazukamori settles back against the pillows.

Kamui's annoyed frown smoothes as Seishiro's body - blue moonlit planes and hollows - is suddenly thrown in sharp relief by the flicker of an orange flame. Seishiro puts a cigarette between his lips and brings the lighter to it.

Kamui's eyes linger over the man's mouth, strangely soft in post-coital lassitude.  
"Care to give me one?" Kamui asks. His voice is hoarse from moans and threats.

Seishiro doesn't reply, simply leans further into his feathered pillow. The Sakurazukamori tilts his head up, taking the cigarette out of his mouth to exhale a plume of smoke.

"Are you listening to me?" Kamui demands as Seishiro continues on his cigarette, his broad chest expanding and contracting by slow turns.

Kamui clenches his teeth and attempts to scramble up when the Sakurazukamori suddenly strikes - presses Kamui against the mattress.

Kamui swallows his breath at the glittering eyes above him.

His wrists hurt. The hands around him are much larger and broader than his own slender fingers.

The cigarette still dangles between Seishiro's lips and Kamui's eyes are focused on its column of ash. It grows slowly, centimeter by centimeter like a snake shedding its gray skin.

Just when he thinks the embers will fall on him, Seishiro lets Kamui go and chuckles.

"I don't think so," the Sakurazukamori smirks, running a hand possessively over Kamui's body.

Seishiro's fingers trace the outside of Kamui's leg, then slide inward, tracing a strange shape on the tender skin of Kamui's thigh. A circle. A triangle. Then Seishiro starts on another shape, a triangle over the first one. Inverted.

Kamui hisses as Seishiro digs in his nails.

"Do you like that?" Seishiro says, voice too low and self-assured to be a whisper.

Kamui's eyes sting. Any more pressure and his skin will puncture and he will bleed.

"Well?"

Kamui clenches his teeth and reluctantly says the safety word. "Subaru."

All at once, Seishiro withdraws. The heavy body lifts off of Kamui. Fingers slide away like sticky maple  
syrup, leaving nothing sweet, only fading bruises. Even the heat of the Sakurazukamori's attention is gone.

Kamui glares at the ceiling while Seishiro rolls out of bed for a shower. The ash on Seishiro's  
still burning cigarette dislodges at the abrupt motion and Kamui scowls as he brushes cinders out of his hair.

"I'll call you a cab," Seishiro says, rummaging in the drawer for new clothes.

Kamui starts, then slides carefully toward the edge of the bed, pulling away the blanket to reveal his nude body. He tilts his head aggressively and asks in a coy voice, "Are you sure you don't want me to stay?"

Five minutes later, Kamui shivers outside a Shinjuku apartment, waiting for a pair of headlights to pull up.

The alarm clock's snoozer goes off. Kamui turns his head to it and realizes the time. It's the third time the alarm went off, which means he's fifteen minutes too late to wake up. That's fifteen minutes late to breakfast, to the bathroom, to get dressed, to get to class. God damn it; being a good boy is so exhausting.

It's not that he's more tired these days or that he gets less sleep; he just can't wake up in the morning.

Who'd want to wake up knowing the something special in his life is gone? That Fuma will never love him, never loved him? That the time he spent with Seishiro was not only wrong, twisted, vile and corruptive, but also a waste of his time and energy? That the only friend he now has in the world is the one he stabbed in the back?

Flashes of memories first thing in the morning, as Kamui tries coaxing his mind back to sleep while waiting for the first snoozer to go off, do not help waking up.

Kamui plays back the memories of his mischievous deeds with Seishiro to solve his morning glory, hoping Sorata won't barge into his room to pull him out of his bed and catch him red handed.

These memories, as intoxicating and pleasurable as they may be, are starting to wear off. More and more these days Kamui remembers less the sex and more the nasty little bits afterwards. Well, who wouldn't, after such a cruel goodbye as Seishiro gave him?

What bothers him is not the searing pain these bitter memories evoke in him; these only help to forget the Sakurazukamori and become clean. What bothers him are the tears he sheds because of those memories. The tears and the dull, stubborn ache in his chest.

He was not in love with the assassin. He was _not_ in love with the assassin. _He was not!_

Even if he cries for days on end and loses his appetite for good and would become so stricken with heartache that he wouldn't even be able to get up in the morning and get out of bed, he will never admit to any feelings towards that bastard.

That old lecher, that perverted pedophile, that deviant…idiotic…fucking…bastard. Kamui whimpers and slams the pillow on his head.

Fuma, it's the heartache over Fuma that makes him so upset.

Sorata barges into his room. The door's hinges complain; they sound a little like what the sound the hinges in Arashi's eyes would make whenever she rolls her eyes at the monk.

"Yo, Kamui, rise and shine, man; you're gonna be majorly late if you don't get up now. Breakfast is already on the table and getting cold…What's wrong? Are you feeling ill?"

Kamui bites his lower lip. He _does not_ want to be seen crying now, even if Sorata will never know why he's crying.

The monk realizes his leader's condition and sits on the bed by Kamui's feet. "Hey, it's okay. If you don't wanna go to classes today it's okay, you know."

His voice is so soft and kind. That klutz can really sound like a big brother when he wants to.

But Kamui does not want comfort right now.

Not _this_ comfort anyway.

Kamui wants jade eyes so soft and warm they almost glow. He wants long delicate thin arms only a little wider and longer than his to hold him. He wants the slightly wider than his, flat bony chest to press against as he wraps his arms around the equally bony back. He wants a long neck reeking of cigarette smoke to bury his face in.

Kamui wants Subaru's comfort. He wants Subaru's comfort so badly that any other form of comfort seems an obscene imitation of the real thing. Sorata's voice is too high pitched as he tries to sound friendly, his body's too heavy on the edge of his mattress, his mind knows not enough about Kamui's woes to understand why he aches so.

_'And Subaru knows why you ache so?'_

'Yes, stupid voice, he knows.'

_'Ah, because you were both fucked and dumped by Sakurazuka Seishiro? Yeah, come to think of it, he _does_ know why you ache so.'_

Kamui's fist clutches and twists the sheets so hard tiny tears are opened at the seams of the sheets, 'SEISHIRO DID NOT SLEEP WITH SUBARU!'

_'You think? You sure? Even if he told you he did?'_

"Shut up." Kamui whimpers into his pillow and the mattress under him is drenched by a new wave of tears.

Sorata sighs. "Hmph. Back to those moods, huh?" Sorata's weight lifts from the bed and the sound of his slippers softly padding on the floor reaches Kamui's ears through the pillow. "I really aughta not be so surprised; you've really…I don't know…grown apart from us all lately."

He stops at the door, holding on to the wooden side and staring into the corridor outside Kamui's bedroom, trying to decide if he should say what's on his mind or not. "It's not like you've ever been the social sparkling guy, but lately you've really set a new record in shunning us all out."

The pillow shoots from Kamui's head to Sorata's, slamming into the back of the monk's neck powerfully.

"I'm going through some hard shit at the moment, Sorata, ever thought of _that_! You all never went through what I've been through; you've all had it easy in comparison to me! While I'm facing the all dancing, all singing fuck of the world, you sit aside and do _shit_ to help me, and then you demand I also be happy and cheerful through all the shit I'm going through!" Kamui's standing in his bed, screaming at the top of his lungs, tears rolling down his face.

For a moment Sorata stays the way he was - facing the hallway - and for a moment he is silent. The next moment he spins around, eyes blazing, brows furrowed, mouth snarling.

"**KAMUI!****Yuzuriha's gone _missing_ because she fought a Dragon of Earth, Saiki's dead because he fought a Dragon of Earth, Aoki-san divorced his wife because he thinks he's going to die, we're all here to support you, to listen to you when you have a hard time, to help you through anything! What the _hell_ do you think we're doing here?**"

He doesn't shout so much now, his voice is lower and less aggressive. He's not arguing with Kamui; he can't argue with the boy for such a long time. Sorata never yelled at Kamui like that, never spat the ugly, badly phrased truth like that. He was never blunt with Kamui and maybe that's where he went wrong. Maybe he spoiled the boy. Well, he'll be damned if he won't finish this conversation with a new and improved Kamui in his hands.

"Where the _hell_ have you been these past few months! We try to talk to you and it's like we're air, your grades hit rock bottom, you get into stupid fights with Fuma like we told you not to do about a million times.

"Where's your head, Kamui! What are you going through that's….that's….I can't describe it without sounding too damn poetic, but…It's like you're wrapped up in fog or something; we just can't get through to you…."

Kamui sits down on the bed, turning his back on Sorata he folds his arms on his chest and bites his lower lip hard enough to bleed.

Oh no, not another 'I'll shut myself in my shell, stay away, I'm depressed' attitude. Sorata hangs his head. Just how many pep talks can one give another!

"Sorata…"

Sorata shoots his head up, taking a hopeful step towards the teen's bed, "Yes?"

"Fuck off."

"….Wha…you little…"

"And if you ever scream at me again I'll punch your face in."

That's it. Sorata closes the distance between him and Kamui, grabs the boy's pajamas by the collar and spins him around. He grabs the front of Kamui's shirt and yanks his face to his.

He's so angry, so completely inexperienced with these moments of sheer rage that his palms are sweaty and shaky. He never thought he'd do this, but at the moment he can see nothing but red and those insolent violet eyes glaring fire at him.

"You dirty little bitch," is all he can think of saying, he doesn't know the words are coming or why he attached them to Kamui; the blood's pounding too powerfully in his temples.

"Bitch! You just called me a bitch!" Kamui hisses. 'Bitch' is what Seishiro called him whenever he'd demand something and it wasn't even as venomously as Sorata now pronounced it, it was a kind of a teasing nickname, like 'boy'. The tears are warmer now and they make Sorata's inches-from-his face blurry, but Kamui too is taken by rage.

He covers Sorata's palm with his and digs his nails into the tanned skin, carving four lines from Sorata's knuckles to his wrist.

Sorata's eyes twitch from total shock's gape to fury's wince. He punches Kamui – half as powerfully as he could – and immediately regrets it. To him, punching Kamui means he sank into a whole new level of outrageous behavior, forbidden things that aught to have never happened.

To Kamui the battle is not yet over. He has taken one too many hits and turned the other cheek for the past few months, he will not take one from Sorata. Though half way through it he already regrets it, Kamui's palm flashes past Sorata's face, leaving another set of scratches on the monk's skin.

The two men retreat, each to their own sanctum. Kamui crawls back up against the wall on his bed and curls into a ball, crying powerfully. Sorata stomps his way down to the kitchen, trying to remember to blink and breathe while his mind is completely numbed by the latest development in his relationship with Kamui.

Arashi spots the monk on his way to the kitchen. In two minutes they'll need to leave for class and Sorata didn't even wash his face or brush his teeth, his hair is still a mess.

He zooms past her with an expression on his face that's completely alien to her; it's grave and angry and sad and each emotion is so powerful he looks like a completely different person. For a fragment of a second Arashi's heart shrivels with fear and she wishes to cover her face.

Sorata walks into the kitchen and tries to wash the dishes. The dishes are already clean and drying in the rack. He tries to wipe the kitchen counter of any sticky or grainy breakfast-induced dirt, but there's none. His wrath he finally takes out on putting the already dry dishes in the cupboards.

His hand bleeds all over the kitchen counter and the clean dishes, which keeps him busy cleaning when the dry dishes run out. He can feel the blood trickling down his neck and knows he'll have to change into a new shirt and get his wounds bandaged. But not now; not when he's still mad.

Only with his back to her does Arashi note the broadening patch of blood on his white shirt and she rushes to his side.

"What happened to you!"

The glass Sorata holds with shaking fingers slips his grip and falls to the floor, shattering. He leans on the counter, covering his face and shaking all over. "I hit Kamui….and he hit me back…." His voice starts out high and whimpering, panicking even, "He….he's going through something, and it's not a good 'something'." Now his voice is deep and serious.

Arashi retreats and tries to think of something to say. She has nothing to say. She goes to get the first aid kit.

Kamui throws the duvet all around him and cries so hard he wails instead of sobs. He grabs at his hairs and pulls at them. He's panicking.

"I'm sorry….." He whimpers between hiccups and sobs, "I'm _so__sorry_…" he wipes at his nose with his pajama sleeve, "I'm so sorry, Subaru…."

* * *

**Sweetest Perfection**

Summer dies away and already autumn is stepping in, sending cold winds and short rain spasms onto Tokyo's inhabitants, but the warm weather is not over yet.

Seishiro picks his sweaty body off Subaru's bed sheets, slowly peeling soiled cotton off wet skin, and pads towards the onmyouji's shower. He leaves behind him the heavy scent of musk, sweat and semen. The hot air inside the stuffy hot room, soaking up the day's unexpected warmth through the walls, enhances these scents.

Subaru takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.

Something's bugging him; the memory of what a sin he had just committed. Seishiro comes to him more often these days. He comes with an eye burning with passion and leaves with an air of disappointment.

If Subaru didn't have something better to think of he'd worry about Seishiro's displeasure with what they've been doing the same way for almost six years now.

With running water's calming sound coming from the shower, Subaru stares up at his ceiling and ponders. He must visit Kamui again sometime. The boy has been healing from his physical wounds alright, it's the mental ones that still ache; it's most obvious when he looks into Kamui's eyes.

Whatever it was that happened that last time Kamui met Fuma, it shook Subaru's leader quite badly. The last time he came to visit Kamui, Sorata told him of the boy's detachment, his plummeting grades, his short span of attention and patience.

Subaru flips himself to lie on his belly and hugs the pillow under his head, eyes staring out the window at the city outside. The hot day turns water puddles from last night's rain into fumes until it seems the whole city is wrapped in fog. Looking out the window becomes mostly useless as half the view is a white mist.

He'll go visit Kamui today. Better get ready now or he'll be caught in traffic and only arrive at Clamp Campus by evening time.

Subaru peels his sweaty, sticky body off the sheets and pads to the shower.

Kamui's been warmer to him lately, softer than ever. No matter how silently bitter he might be around his roommates, whenever Subaru's around Kamui's in a much better mood.

He's edging closer as well, and not only for a comforting hug. Kamui's looking into his eyes more, listens to him more, talks to him more. It's true the boy's eyes are filled with some unexplained torment whenever they make eye contact, but Subaru can't help feeling somewhat pleased about it.

How sweet the boy is, how soft and comforting. Someone who's exactly like him; tormented by the same pain, suffering the same personality misunderstanding from everyone around him, is burdened by the same duty and feeling the same loathing towards said duty. Long ago Subaru decided that stepping into the Battle was worth it, if only for Kamui's benefit.

There's a wonderful feeling that's spreading in Subaru's chest, like someone's rubbing warm honey onto his torso. Subaru grabs his towel and buries his nose in it, feeling the slightly prickly texture collide with his blushing soft cheeks.

Seishiro's reflection in the bathroom mirror catches Subaru's eye. The man's back is to him as he lathers himself with short effective motions. He must be in a hurry as well. Or maybe he's avoiding him as much as he can? Lately Seishiro leaves his house not only disappointed, but also quickly.

"Seishiro-san…are you in a hurry?"

Starting the water again, pouring water on his body where the tap can't reach, in a hurry to clean himself of the soap, "I have a job to do."

Subaru's face darken, "A Sakurazukamori job…" he whispers.

Completely washed from soap, Seishiro steps out of the shower, tears the towel out of Subaru's hands and shoots a quick, impatient glare at his lover, "No, I have an evening shift in Ikebukuro Burger King branch, where I work part time. What other job do I have!"

The tiles on the bathroom wall echo the silence as Subaru blinks at Seishiro.

Why is he being rude to him? Cruelty is something Subaru's used to coming from Seishiro, but rudeness?

"Y-you sound bitter for some reason, Seishiro-san."

Seishiro stops his enthusiastic toweling and stares at Subaru with surprise behind his careless mask. Since when can Subaru spot emotions in what he says according to the words he uses alone? So far the onmyouji was fooled by his monotonous speech or his fake emotions enough to be fooled by the words, but now he's listening more carefully. What's going on!

By the time he's finished drying himself Subaru's already halfway through his own shower. "You're in a hurry, Subaru-kun, you too have a job?" saying caring words while not caring always hurt Subaru no matter what mood the light onmyouji was in.

"No, I'm going to meet my Kamui."

The soap slips out of Subaru's hurrying palms and as he bends over to pick it up Seishiro snags him and forces an hour's delay on both their schedules.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"I'm so sorry I came at such an hour, traffic was horrible." The air in the Seals' dorm tells Subaru no one's going to listen to him here.

Arashi, who opened the door to Subaru, nods quietly and mumbles a "Welcome back, Subaru-san." She casts a short glance across her shoulder at Sorata and takes Subaru's coat from him.

"I think city council made a mistake by closing the A36 highway for construction. Now everyone who wants to leave the city takes the B2 and…" Subaru realizes no one's hearing him and stops the formal banter.

Sorata's sitting in the living room, half sunk in the sofa, frowning at the channels he keeps switching on the television with a can of beer in his left hand. His right hand is bandaged. There's a large gauze square held by lines of surgical tape on his left cheek.

The monk looks more than angry; he looks deeply enraged and absolutely frustrated at being incompetent about what's bothering him.

"Good evening, Sorata-san."

"You came here to talk to him?" Sorata sounds surprisingly old when his voice is slightly hoarse and his words are loaded with anger. His eyes are fixed on the television screen, brows still furrowing.

"…"

"You always come here for Kamui, so you must have come here to talk to him today as well."

"S-Sorata-san…"

"I 'aint angry, not at you anyways." Sorata finally moves his gaze from the television to Subaru, "He's acting weird lately and we're all sick and tired of it. We 'aint sick and tired in the 'let's do something to help him' kind of way no more; we're in a 'let's kick the bitchy bastard out of the apartment already' kind of mood."

Arashi gasps and covers her mouth. Subaru's eyes hurt because his shock made him forget to blink.

"So talk to him and try to get it into his thick skull that if he's going to keep at his crappy attitude he's going to find himself outside this apartment."

If Sorata's going to keep talking like this Arashi's going to reprimand him. Subaru noticed the way the monk managed to work his way under the miko's icy shell by showing her his warm and kind side; this suddenly bitter and uncouth behavior might deal a deathblow to the budding relationship.

To cut the conversation short, Subaru nods and hurries upstairs to Kamui's room.

Whatever it is that Kamui did, whatever it is that happened and made Kamui behave the way he did to Sorata, it couldn't have been bad enough to excuse such behavior. Sorata knew Kamui during the boy's first steps in Tokyo, when any wrong word to the boy meant a danger to your life, and Sorata survived those times; what pissed the monk off must have been horrible.

Subaru opens Kamui's room's door with his eyes to the floor, shutting the door behind him with his back to the boy without saying a word.

"Kamui…" His voice came out as serious and authoritarian as he had hoped it. He turns around.

Kamui's kneeling on the bed in his pajamas, leaning forward towards him, eyes welling with tears and mouth open with awe-filled happiness. His hair is a mess yet it frames his face so beautifully and as the comprehension of Subaru's presence in his room finally sinks in, Kamui's cheeks flare in magnificent blush.

"...K-kamui…I've…uh…S-Soraaa…Um…H-how are you, Kamui?"

Once Subaru thought he'd always like girls. He thought there was no reason (or proof) that he was unlike any other male around him and might choose his own sex as objects of love.

Then, as 1991 ticked by he realized Seishiro-san might be an exception, but nothing else.

A year later, during three months of especially passively suicidal depression, Subaru discovered that when he tried destroying himself with the aid of a famous sexually transmitted disease (which he never managed to catch no matter how many people he lay with unprotected) the men he chose as his possible murderers were always taller than him, more muscular and preferably in business suits. He marked himself as the uke and felt at home with it.

1999 comes along and with it the earthquakes his grandmother foretold him about. She never mentioned the earth of sexual preferences would shake under his feet too, as a slimmer, more effeminate, stunningly beautiful boy with a life story so parallel to his bursts into his life.

This time it didn't take Subaru a year to realize he is attracted to Kamui, it just made him wonder.

Wonder if he's up for the seme role. Wonder if he'll have the guts to start a relationship with the boy. Wonder if his nearly schizophrenic attitude towards Seishiro will allow him anything with the boy. Wonder if Kamui'll notice him at all.

Kamui not only saw him, Kamui _listened_ to him, Kamui treated him as someone different than the rest of the Seals, Kamui looked into his heart, Kamui spoke to his soul, Kamui asked him how he's doing, worried about his health; so many wonderful things coming from someone he's interested in.

After eight years of chasing the one he loves, having the one he's interested in actually _returning_ his affection made Subaru lightheaded.

Subaru was happy with Kamui, even when the boy was almost drowning in pain, even when he himself was drowning. When he's with Kamui the whole world disappears and white joy wraps him like a warm duvet. So many times during this wretched year he managed to claw himself out of bottomless depressions with only one notion of how Kamui'll miss him if he killed himself.

But is Kamui feeling the same? Is he seeing things the same way?

* * *

**World in My Eyes**

Seishiro taught Kamui many things. Most of them were sexual tricks to please a man. None of them will he use on Subaru – Subaru's too pure and kind to deserve Seishiro's treatment filtered through Kamui's hands.

The only thing Kamui learned from his adventures with Seishiro that he _is_ going to use is the way to use his helpless appearance for seduction.

He knew his torn-collared pajama shirt was slipping off his shoulder and exposing more skin than what's decent between friends. He knew his boxer shorts hug his thighs and behind nicely, enhancing his legs' shape. He knew he was blushing the way that makes him look adorably helpless and excited and he knew that blush often has a near fatal effect on other men.

_'You're going to seduce Subaru now? You think getting some might make you fucking his lover look any better when you tell him? You are still going to tell him, right?'_

'….No….I won't….I'll listen to you and not seduce him. He doesn't need me in his life, not the me who seduces him anyway…' Tears rolled down Kamui's flaming cheeks.

_'Ho? Could it be that you're actually _listening_ to me?'_

'I can only damage him like I damage everything around me…no, I won't touch him.'

_'You're being good, Kamui.'_

Subaru shook his head a little and sat by Kamui on the bed. He kept his head low and his eyes on the floor, fearing his acts might he look at the striking boy once more. "You had a fight with Sorata, didn't you? He looks very upset."

Kamui sat back on his heels and kept his mouth shut. His fingers mulled the bed sheets.

"Arashi's very upset too ….Funny, but…without you actively amongst them they seem…almost deflated…" Subaru stopped his mouth running when he realized he was thinking out loud.

"I'm very sorry, Subaru."

"I'm glad to hear that you are," does he sound parental enough? Because if he doesn't think himself parental, or at least older-brother-like he's going to have to find a better excuse for not staring at Kamui's smooth bare legs tempting the corner of his eye, "You should go and apologize to Sorata-san; he's very upset."

Kamui nodded silently, "Not right now please, I'm…I mean…I will apologize, it's just that it's too close to the fight now…"

Is Subaru avoiding eye contact and acting all fatherly like on purpose? Why!

'He…he couldn't have found out…could he?'

_'Why do you ask me! I'm your conscience, not friggin' Hinoto!'_

'Shit! What do I do!'

_'How about confessing?'_

'_What! _Are you nuts! No way.'

_'You're trying to fix everything you've ruined and pay for everything you've done wrong, aren't you?'_

'I never said a thing about wanting to do the latter.'

_'Kamui, don't make me bitch-nag you again.'_

'...Subaru…'

"…Subaru…I-I've done something horrible…" tears on the cheap bed sheets.

"It'll be all better the moment you apologize Kamui. If you look deep into your heart and realize just how important to you the person you hurt is, and then apologize, everything will be forgiven. I promise."

'This is too much.'

No matter how hard he tried to fight it or deny it, Subaru simply could not complain about Kamui's actions as the boy suddenly leaped on him, pushing him flat onto the mattress, wrapping his delicate arms around his neck and burying his tearful head in its corner. He couldn't deny the feeling of warmth and love that exploded in his chest, the heat and need in his pants.

"Oh, Subaru….I'm so sorry, Subaru….I've done such horrible things to you…"

No matter how hard he tried to repress it, Kamui could not fight the feelings that Subaru's welcoming arms, the comforting palms he rubbed his back with, the undeniable erection he could feel through the bigger man's jeans, started in him. The biggest was relief; the second biggest was humiliated acceptance.

Kamui realized Subaru didn't know what he was talking about and was too thick, or horny, or crazy, or whatever to understand what he'd say unless he basically screamed 'I USED TO FUCK YOUR PRECIOUS SEISHIRO-SAN ON A DAILY BASIS!'.

"Horrible things? Oh, Kamui, you have no idea how wrong you are." It hurt Subaru, but he had to pull Kamui a little away from him so he could look the boy in the eyes while saying what's in his heart.

"N-no, you don't understand, Subaru…"

"You've only done wonderful things for me, Kamui."

"B-but…but…"

_'You don't have the balls to say that name while looking him in the eye, do you?'_

"You made me a happy person, Kamui."

'Eh!'

"You made me want to live whenever I was so depressed I had everything prepared for suicide. You made me want to wake up in the mornings because, maybe, somehow, I'd get to meet you. You made me smoke less, you made me think about Seishiro-san less than I used to." Short nervous giggle, "You made me go to the city library and refresh my math knowledge so I can help you with your homework."

Kamui mouthed a bit while tears silently flooded down his face.

"Whenever I look at you, or think about you, I get all warm inside. You make me happy, Kamui; you make me a happy person. Can you understand that? That the only thing you've ever done to me was good?"

"B-but…Seishiro…I…."

Subaru's face darkened, but only a little bit; his eyes still glittered with excitement. "He scares you, and he's not completely out of my heart, I know that. But Kamui, you're still not completely over Fuma, are you? That's okay because I understand what you're feeling; our hearts are so much the same."

Subaru hooked his arm around the small of Kamui's back, pulling the boy closer to him again. His other hand took Kamui's, weaving thin fingers with thin fingers.

"Kamui…I know this sounds crazy, but….we can help each other, we can work together. We can cling to each other through the toughest storm, through this crazy year. Kamui…we can be together."

'…..What…..the….hell….!'

_'Sounds right, you know.'_

'EEEH! You mean I have your permission!'

_'What am I, your father! I'm just saying this _sounds_ right.'_

'It's right?...It is, isn't it?'

_'The man loves you.'_

'But I didn't tell him yet….'

_'….Do you still feel something towards Seishiro?'_

'I never did!'

_'Sure, fine, whatever. This is your big chance to set things right, Kamui, to be a good boy and stick to the right side.'_

'It is, isn't it…'

_'You better not fuck up with this one.'_

'He's not a very good kisser…aught to teach him to use his tongue. God, when was the last time he kissed anyone! What's he waiting for _me_ to use my tongue? _I'm_ going to be the seme here!'

"Mmmm, Subaru..." legs tightly wrapping around the onmyouji's waist, hands already roaming the bigger man's back under his shirt, hips gently grinding against Subaru's bony ones.

If everything Subaru said is true, if they really can help each other out of their pathetic excuses of a lives then what's a bit of fake passion?

Yes, fake passion. Kamui likes Subaru, loves even (in a twisted kind of hidden way), but he's not attracted to him. Subaru's shoulders aren't wide enough. His chest is too thin and devoid of muscles, much like his abdomen. His palms aren't big enough and they grab Kamui with not enough force. As he rolls over to top Kamui, his pelvic bones poke Kamui's much like his ribs.

But for the sake of finding a spot of light to drag himself towards out of the pit of dirt he's in at the moment, Kamui'll feign anything.

Now if only he could stop picking up the scent of cigarette smoke from Subaru…

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

What should he do? How should he do it?

Of course Subaru knows _how_ to make love to a man, that is, he knows the basic mechanics; no one can have Seishiro as a bedmate (occasional and casual as those encounters were) and not know how to do it.

Subaru just never took the role of top before.

Will Kamui notice?

Will Kamui _care_? Will _he_ care? After all, Subaru realized as he sheepishly thumbed Kamui's shirt off, these are their first steps as a couple. A couple that will fight together to push away the badness and work towards improving their lives. What's a bit of first-time-and-not-so-good-sex to them?

If so then come on, Subaru, get your act together and start making love to this boy. This beautiful boy you love. He's all yours now.

Kamui lay under him, his creamy chest rising and falling rapidly, his cheeks flared, his eyes testing. God, he's so beautiful, so very beautiful.

Subaru dipped into another kiss and laid himself fully on Kamui. Maybe if they just lie together in each other's arms and grind against one another it'll give him time to recalculate his next moves.

Think again. Kamui seems very enthusiastic about getting it on. He nearly ripped Subaru's ears off as he yanked the onmyouji's black shirt off him. Next those lovely fingers flew down to his belt buckle, undoing it in record speed.

Would you listen to that, he's really turned on by this. Hmmm….don't his moans sound good, you've never heard your name spoken with such lustful breathless hoarseness before, have you?

Come on, Subaru, do something, damnit! All this time you wondered what it'd feel like to run your tongue across his skin, now is your chance!

Kamui tastes like sweat and vanilla. His skin is like silk and somehow his tongue keeps pulling it a bit so there's always a tiny line of skin at its tip. He must be doing things the right way because Kamui's fingers are going to pull his hairs out if they keep threading themselves across his scalp.

Kamui's nipples are pink and warm, inviting. There's a tiny concentration of fat under the skin which Subaru sucks on gently for a while, his head reeling with need.

He needs to be inside the boy and he needs to do it now or he'll surely explode.

"Uh…K-Kamui…you don't happen to have…uh…something like…erm….an oil or something?"

How can you explain what a lubricant is to a complete virgin?

Kamui's eyes focus and dart around the room. He withdraws from under Subaru, folding his legs, and starts rummaging through the drawers in his bedside table. What he pulls out nearly makes Subaru choke.

Where would a complete virgin get a tube of K-Y?

"Kamui?"

And where would he learn what to lubricate and how?

Try to concentrate on that even if he's stroking your penis more than what's needed for proper application of the gel.

"Kamui, how do you know what to do now?"

For a moment Kamui seems to be distracted by listening to something else, but immediately he snaps back to reality. He blushes, which doesn't help Subaru's need to concentrate on the mystery before him, and looks away sheepishly.

"I-I…I h-have….uh…Manga….about stuff…like this…"

How wonderful is that? They even chose the same means of release for their special needs as teens. Subaru wraps his arms around the boy and slowly lowers them both back to the mattress.

Kamui feels warm and tight around him and so very good and exciting that Subaru's nearly over the edge from the first thrust.

He's in such rapture that he fails to notice Kamui felt nothing of the pain one usually feels while being penetrated for the first time.

Kamui wiggles under him, moving his hips this way and that, trying different angles to place his legs in. Subaru thrusts through all this, sweaty forehead on Kamui's collarbone, eyes shut tightly to best enjoy the moment. His palms on Kamui's sides try to stroke the boy from time to time, when his mind pulls itself out of the pleasure enough to remember he aught to do something.

By the time Kamui grabs for his own manhood and starts pumping it, Subaru's already at the point of no return.

A moment later and five minutes from the first kiss they shared, they're lying in each other's arms, collecting their breaths and lazily trying to stroke each other.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was horrible. Even for a first time. It was like…like…sleeping with a virgin. Now what is up with that, huh?

If Seishiro hadn't bragged to Kamui that he has been sleeping with Subaru for several years now then Kamui would have not minded the lousiness of the act he just participated in.

However, Seishiro would have never let Subaru take the role he just took and so, maybe his lack of experience in the topping side of sex could explain what happened just now.

But surely Subaru knows that the partner he's with aught to be pleased too, that the special angle in which your penetrated lover enjoys sex aught to be searched for. Subaru did none of that.

Maybe he was so excited and sheepish that this is how it turned out?

Or maybe, since his first time was such a blast, his expectations are _way_ too high for Subaru to meet.

Perhaps. You know what? No, not 'perhaps'; 'definitely'!

He and Subaru are going to be a couple from now on which means that they'll have plenty of time to work on the sex. Yup, the horrid sex they just had means absolutely nothing.

Kamui smiled and snuggled closer to Subaru, burying his face into the other man's shoulder. His finger trailing along the man's other shoulder, his thigh gently rubbing against the man's thigh.

Fatigue from the days' events starts dragging Kamui gently into sleep.

How pleasing it is to fall asleep in the arms of a man who loves you, who just made love to you. Nothing feels safer than knowing that when you wake up the next morning, this man will be here, that this is not a one night stand, that he'll be here the next morning and the next and the next.

A teardrop lands in Subaru's shoulder.

* * *

**Halo**

The alarm clock by Kamui's bed showed him it was 03:26AM when he opened his eyes and realized his arms, like his bed, are empty.

Subaru must have gone to the bathroom.

Kamui smiles into the pillow and snuggles deeper into his duvet.

The alarm clock informs Kamui that it's 03:45AM and Subaru's not back in bed yet.

Maybe he was called for some job or something. Maybe his cell phone was on vibrate and so, when he was called, Subaru could answer the phone without waking him up so Kamui didn't hear any of it. Maybe.

Kamui pushes the pillow onto the wall and sits up, pulling the duvet back over him and stares out his bedroom window in anticipation.

It's 04:38AM and Kamui tears the duvet off of him after realizing he had nodded off and forgot to keep watch for Subaru's return.

Subaru's not going to return. If so, then where is he? A red rage boils in Kamui's temples, mixed with the faintest notion of humiliation.

He leaps downstairs and, as he spots Subaru sitting before the huge sitting room windows, opens his mouth to shout.

The scent of cigarette smoke catches in Kamui's nose and his eyes become enough accustomed to the light of Clamp Campus coming through the window and nearly swallowing Subaru's shadowy shape to notice the bigger man's position.

Subaru sits with his nose glued to the cold glass; his eyes stare outside with the same foggy dimness as the glass' pane. Left leg half folded and leaning on the thick windowpane, right leg stretched forward on the pane's edge.

He's brooding about something, Kamui understands, probably daydreaming like he so likes to do. What about?

Perhaps about them, about what they did, about their future together. Kamui knows that if he hadn't had such an emotionally tiring day he'd be up all night with excitement as well, thinking about how they're going to be and how their future together would look.

"Seishiro-san…" Subaru's low moan reaches Kamui's ears.

He's thinking about that horrible man, nothing more. Nope, nothing more.

"Oh, Seishiro-san…"

Maybe of ways to explain to that bastard about the fact that they're not going to be together again, ever, that they're nothing but enemies now.

"I'm sorry, Seishiro-san…"

'Sorry, Sei-bitch, but I found someone who really loves me, or is working on it,' Kamui smiles in the dark, rubbing his arms to keep himself warm, 'and from now on your presence in my life other than as the man who killed my sister and is a Harbinger I must fight due to my Seal-ness, is coming to an end.'

"I've done something very silly, Seishiro-san…That poor boy, he's so confused. And I took advantage of it. Oh, Seishiro-san, forgive me. I…I was dazzled by something that could never be given to me."

"What! Don't be stupid, Subaru! Of course you can have it! You can have it anytime you want! It was not a mistake, stop talking to that fucking bastard like he's here and you owe him something!"

Subaru doesn't even turn his head towards Kamui, doesn't even twitch or move or make any sign to show he had heard Kamui.

The world seemed to freeze in time and move forward from Kamui as he realizes that Subaru didn't hear him. Didn't hear him when he was nearly shouting. Why?

"I don't deserve something as good as Kamui and Kamui doesn't deserve something as horrible as me. I'm so useless, Seishiro-san, that I can't even avenge my sister's death. I'm so very small and petty and selfish and useless. I need to apologize to that boy, I'll do that tomorrow."

"W-why…." Kamui whimpers, tears rolling into his open lips, "Why is it that both of you call me 'boy'? Is it an onmyouji thing?" His whimper become a hushed shrilling whisper, "None of you see me….none of you really look at me…both of you see nothing but my body and my general problems….neither of you ever really look into my heart…."

"I hate you, Seishiro-san….but I also love you….and I always will."

Kamui turns his back to the onmyouji and starts climbing the stairs back to his room as soon as he notices that Subaru's drawing inverted pentacles on the back of his palm with the butt of his cigarette.

Some things are too difficult to watch, even for Kamui.

* * *

**Almost Blue Dress**

Great, just great.

Not only was he stuck in traffic for three hours because every coward and his sister wants to flee Tokyo, not only is he going to be late for tonight's victim's departure from his business meeting, but now the damn engine's overheated.

God damn it, this is a _Ferrari_, not some junk-lump of a car; since when do these things suffer silly technical problems like an over heated engine!

Fine, so he might have tested its engine a bit too much on the way until he ran into the traffic jam. But, come on, after waiting for your specially ordered right-hand drive Ferrari Maranello to arrive, and had just received it from the port; you'd play with your new toy a little bit, wouldn't you?

And standing in traffic for three hours straight must have also played a part in the engine's current condition.

Okay, okay; also, as soon as the traffic jam dissolved he sort of raced a bit too much towards his target. A little bit too fast. A little bit too roughly.

But, god-fuck-it! This is a fucking Ferrari, for fuck's sake, it shouldn't be so shocked at such treatment; it's a fucking racing car for fuck's fuck!

Maybe the long time of sitting in the shipping container all the way from Italy to Japan…bullshit! Cars don't sleep! Cars are nothing but pieces of metal, leather and plastic put together; they can't be 'woken up surprisingly' they don't have to 'warm up and stretch their limbs a bit'!

Perhaps Seishiro was so upset about the car because he was very much in danger of the engine heating up beyond repair on the damn thing's first drive.

He stopped and rolled the car to a shoulder in the road as soon as he noted soft white fumes coming from the designed hole in the hood. Opening the smooth, curved, shining black hood Seishiro had to blink at the sight of what is possibly one of the most advanced and capable car engines in the world smoking like it just drove five Grand Prix in a row.

Oh well, there's nothing much he can do about it, is there? Just change the engine's water and wait for it to cool down a bit.

Cars passing by honk their horns at him and catcalls rip through the surprisingly hot air whenever a knowledgeable male driver passes the assassin and his resting work of automobile art. As soon as he realizes the fuming engine brought on his beholders the impression that this fancy-ass car was, in fact, not in the best of shape, Seishiro closes the hood and stands there smoking his cigarette. Now let them die with envy.

"Holy shit!" A familiar boyish voice reaches Seishiro's ear as soon as he climbs back to the road near his car (he was taking a leak behind a few bushes decorating the road's edges). "It's a 550 Maranello! That's….awesome!"

It was the boy. What he is doing here and how he got here does not bother Seishiro; not as much as the boy being here at all did. Seishiro doesn't feel like dealing with a bitterly hissing and bellyaching Kamui at the moment. And he really doesn't feel like answering a " YOU SAVED ME! WHY!" speech right now.

"Oh. It's yours. I should have guessed."

Somehow, the boy didn't sound half as bitter as he should have. Nor did he sound hateful. He just sounded sad.

Seishiro lights another cigarette and opens the hood to see if the fumes cleared out a little bit. Almost time to put some water in.

Kamui stands at some distance from Seishiro, blankly checking on the car from time to time.

"He…Subaru I mean…he won't let go of you."

Oh boy, here we go…

"I really hate that. It's stupid, and ridiculous and useless. Why can't he get his head out of his ass and move on in life!"

Beg your pardon?

"If I were him I'd grow a spine, like, ages ago and kick your ass big time. Or just get over you and then kick your ass. Or wait for this year to come along to kick your ass while I get myself someone else to love because I got over you ages ago."

Is he talking about Subaru or about himself as Subaru?

"Anyways, I came to the conclusion that Subaru's a cowardly prick and I've had enough of it. He makes me sick with how pathetic he is."

"There's a bottle of distilled water in the trunk; get it for me, boy."

Kamui nods quickly, a glint of excitement dancing in his eyes for a moment at the thought of helping to maintain a car of that sort.

"Subaru thinks that I'm so much like him; well that's **_bullshit_**! Here, wait, I'll unscrew it. No, I can do this alone! See? I'm not that weak."

Seishiro takes the bottle calmly away from Kamui and begins carefully pouring water into his precious engine.

"Yeah, that's what I'm talking about; Subaru's so much weaker than me, and so much more spineless. Why does he think _I_ need _his_ help? I don't know."

"He doesn't like you clinging to him."

"E-eh!"

Seishiro slams the hood gently shut. For a moment he stares at his soot-blackened hands and the car, nearly baffled. "Boy, there's a pack of baby wipes in the right door's pocket; get them for me."

"What do you mean he's tired of me _clinging_ to him!" Kamui pulls two wet wipes for Seishiro to use, "I don't cling to him anymore, I stopped clinging when I started sleeping with - "

Cleaning under his fingernails, Seishiro smirks. "So, you've had enough of my property?"

"Property, you say? Ah, fuck it, I don't care anymore. Yeah, I'm done 'playing with your toy'. Bastard; that's all you ever cared about, isn't it?"

Slipping into the driver's seat while pushing Kamui out of his way semi-roughly, Seishiro reaches for the starter and gives it a delicate turn. "That's right, boy."

The magnificent car starts with a pleasant purr and drives away sleekly, as if hovering above the road.

Kamui stares after the disappearing car and sighs. He wants to be mad at what Seishiro said, but he can't. Because Seishiro asked him to help him, even if it was with small things, even if he addressed him as 'boy' and nothing more; he still asked him to do something he could have done himself.

And Seishiro saved him from dying in the Garden Place. Saved him again later, even though he let go of him, Kamui knew it.

"Maybe….maybe….you're not such a bastardly bastard after all. Maybe."

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

'No, please do not lie to him, do not lie to them!'

'Hush now, my dear; fall asleep, rest.'

Subaru stepped into Hinoto's darkened room. He walked up to her decorated platform and stood still, awaiting her words.

"Thank you, Sumeragi-dono, for coming to see me…"

(tbc)


End file.
